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THE LIBRARY

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

GIFT OF
COMMODORE BYRON MCCANDLESS

REMINISCENCES

OF A

NONAGENAR: AN

BY SAKAH ANNA EMEKY

AUTHOK OF " THREE GENERATIONS.

NEWBURYPORT :

WILLIAM H. HDSE & CO., PRINTERS, 42 STATE STREET.
1879.

PREFACE.

THIS volume, as its title implies, has been chiefly derived from the recollections of my
mother ; but recitals by my father, grandparents and other deceased relatives and friends
have aided the work, and I have obtained many anecdotes and facts from several aged per-
sons still living. My thanks are due to others less advanced in life, especially to J. H. HAM-
LIN, esq., of Portland, Maine, for details respecting the Poyen family, and for the description
of their ancestral home in Gaudaloupe; to Miss REBECCA INGERSOLL DAVIS of East Haver-
hill, for others relating to the Countess De Vipart ; to Mr. LYMAN COLE of Newburyport, for
his family history; to GEORGE EDWIN EMERY of Lynn, Mass., for facts respecting our ances-
tors, and their home in England, and for the history of the name of Emery; also to THOMAS
C. AMOKY, esq., of Boston, for Amory records; to JAMES CHUTE PEABODY, esq., for valua-
ble information. I am indebted to the " Genealogy of the LITTLE Family," compiled
by GEORGE T. LITTLE; to that of HALE by ROBERT S. HALE, LL.D. ; to EDMUND SMITH,
esq., for the " Heraldry of SMITH, London, JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, 36 Soho square, 1870;" to
BENJAMIN HALE, esq., and other persons and families who have kindly loaned genealogies
and ancient documents. I have received assistance from the Histories of Newbury and New-
buryport by JOSHUA COFFIN, esq., and Mrs. E. VALE SMITH; and JOHNSTON'S History of the
Campaign on Long Island in 1776 ; from the Record of Schools, by Mr. O. B. MERRILL,
published by the "Antiquarian and Historical Society" of Old Newbury; GAGE'S History of
Rowley and Genealogical Register, 1869. In the family records I have aimed at an arrange-
ment that will enable the descendants of the present generation to trace their lineage, and I
have endeavored to note those born within the limits of Newbury and Newburyport, who
have been college graduates, or have otherwise become distinguished.

My desire has been to give a graphic history of " Ye Olden Time" ; to faithfully portray
the domestic, religious, political, literary and social life of a past age, with a description of
" Ould Newberry," and of the business and aspect of Newburyport prior to the great fire of
1811. The ancient town has been rich in matters of world-wide interest and historic value.

About 1650, at the Dummer, now Glen Mills, was set up the first cloth mill in America.
In the Byfield parish was the first woolen and cotton factory in Massachusetts, and there the
first broadcloth manufactured in the country was made. There, Perkins the inventor of the
plate for engraving bank notes, set up the first nail factory. In the same parish, in 1680, at
the head of tide-water on the river Parker, the first vessel was built in New England. Later,
the first academy was founded by Gov. Dummer, and still later, the first incorporated rifle
company was formed. In the West Precinct, now West Newbury, the first horn combs and
buttons were manufactured by Mr. Enoch Noyes. In Newburyport Master Pike published
the first Arithmetic, and the stalwart ship carpenter, Eleazer Johnson, burned the first tea
in ante-revolutionary times, previous to its destruction in Boston. His son Nicholas, com-
manding a Newburyport ship, the " Count de Grass,e" was the first to display the Stars and
Stripes on the river Thames. Newburyport has also the honor of having founded the first
Sunday and female high schools in Massachusetts. That the book may satisfy the expectations
of relatives and friends, and prove a source of instruction and interest to the public generally,
is the sincere wish of

SARAH ANNA EMERY.

Newburyport, 1879.

CHAPTER I.

Ninety years is a long period to re-
view. The world of to-day is an en-
tirely different thing from that of my
earliest recollection. How vividly I
recall the old homestead the large
brown house, built in 1707, with its
wide, sloping back roof, and many sized
and shaped windows ; the long barn
and other farm buildings in the rear ;
the well, with its graceful sweep in
front, and the usually huge wood pile
at the back. Before the house stretched
a large garden, well stocked with pear,
peach and cherry trees. Currant and
gooseberry bushes grew luxuriantly be-
neath the sheltering board fence, that
separated the enclosure from the broad
fields and orchards around. There was
a clump of quince bushes in one corner,
and in another two Plum Island plum
bushes, that had grown from stones
taken from fruit brought from the isl-
and. There was also a great variety
of medicinal and sweet herbs, and from
early spring till late in autumn the bor-
ders on either side of the gravel walk
were gay with flowers. These flowers
were one of the greatest delights of
my childhood. How distinctly I re-

member every shrub and bush, and the
pleasure I received in dispensing my
treasures amongst my less favored
neighbors, who often came to beg a
rose, a bunch of pinks, or some spear-
mint or lavender "to take to meetin'
to keep 'em awake Sabba' day."

Crossing the broad, unhewn door-
stone and opening the wide front door,
you saw a narrow entry with a flight of
winding stairs at the back. As you
stepped across the threshold your feet
fell upon a trap door in the floor.
Through this cavity passed all the farm
produce that was annually stored in the
cellar. Carts filled with potatoes, tur-
nips, etc., were backed up to the door
and their contents chuted into the sub-
terranean regions below, while from the
iron stanchion in the unplastered ceil-
ing overhead was lowered, by rope and
pulleys, barrel after barrel of apples
and cider. The house was constructed
in the style common to the period,
two spacious rooms on either side of
the front entry, with wide fireplaces, and
low ceilings crossed in the centre by a
broad beam. The two front windows
in both rooms were long and narrow ;

REMINISCENCES

the one in the end was square. Open-
ing from these apartments were the
summer kitchen, bed-rooms and the
dairy. The fireplaces, both below and
in the chambers, showed an attempt at
architectural ornament, in the high
mantel pieces. Those in the two front
rooms were both furnished with a large
oven in a corner to the right, and a
smaller one in that opposite. These
were closed by brightly-painted red
oven lids ; and in the right-hand cor-
ner stood a long, low form, for the ac-
commodation of the smaller members
of the household. There were long
dressers, also, showing some effort at
elegance in the carving of the shelves,
which were loaded with pewter ware, as
bright as silver, and a comer cupboard,
in the county phraseology termed a
"beaufat," which displayed rare treas-
ures of China, glass and silver.

My father and mother, recently mar-
ried, occupied one half of the house ;
my widowed grandmother, with anoth-
er son and daughter, resided in the
other half. Young people, their for-
tune still to be made, my parents'
rooms were plainly furnished, with com-
mon tables and flag-bottomed chairs.
A high case of drawers was the chief
ornament to the best bedroom, the oth-
ers boasting of only a chest of drawers.
These were about the height of a bu-
reau, with a chest atop and one or two
drawers beneath. The square, high-
post bedsteads were tastily hung with
muslin and chintz curtains, and cov-
ered with the prettiest of coverlids,
woven in love-knots and other dainty
patterns, or with quilts stiff with the
most elaborate quilting. Grandmoth-
er's rooms were much more elegant.
While my mother, the oldest of nine
children, was provided with a common

fitting out, my grandmother, the heiress
to quite a fortune, had received an out-
fit that, at the time of her marriage,
had been the chief topic for tea-table
talk throughout the country-side. The
bridal trousseau and the best furniture
had been imported from England ex-
pressly for her, by indulgent and some-
what aristocratic parents. The green
damask dress, and brown camblet cir-
cular cloak and riding hood, with the
high-heeled brocade slippers, were, at
the time of which I am speaking, still
as fresh as new, and a peep at them
was a rare treat wl|ich was sometimes
vouchsafed when. I was especially good.
Grandmother's front room had bow-
backed chairs with flag seats, and ta-
bles supported by curiously-carved and
twisted legs, a candle stand that screwed
up and down like a piano stool, a hand-
some mirror, and the buffet was re-
splendent in' its appointments. Her
best bed was hung with green moreen
curtains, edged by heavy gimp trim-
ming ; the case of drawers was decor-
ated with fluted drawers in the upper
tier, and surmounted by ornaments of
carving. There was a handsome dress-
ing table, a fine specimen of the sculp-
tured frames of the period, with sever-
al drawers and compartments. Over
this hung a glass, the plate surrounded
by an ornamental wreath, and a frame
of colored glass, set in mahogany
moulding. The back chamber the
large one under the long, sloping back
roof was set apart for manufacturing
purposes. Here the chief part of the
clothing and other household goods for
the family were spun and woven. The
apartment was conveniently fitted up
with looms, woolen, linen and spooling
wheels, swifts, reels, cards and warp-
ing bars. Here, also, stood the great

OF A NONAGENARTAST.

grain chest, well stored with wheat,
rye, oats and barley. Our farm was
well adapted to the growth of wheat.
My father raised enough to supply his
family, and had a surplus for the mar-
ket. The large garret, besides being
the receptacle for all the odds and ends
of housekeeping, was annually filled
with Indian corn, a corn barn being a
later addition to the premises.

CHAPTER II.

My parents had married young.
Their chief capital for commencing life
was youth, health and mutual love.
My grandfather's decease dated a few
years prior to his son's marriage, and
the large farm, with the exception of
the widow's dower, had been divided
between the five sons. At this time
my father had purchased one of these
shares, and he was making strenuous
exertions to secure the rest of the pa-
ternal acres. Industry and economy-
were the watchwords of the household :
still, there was no overtasking nor
stint.

In those summer days, when my rec-
ollection first opens, mother and Aunt
Sarah rose in the early dawn, and, tak-
ing the well-scoured wooden pails from
the bench by the back door, repaired
to the cow yard behind the barn. "We
owned six cows ; my grandmother four.
Having milked the ten cows, the milk
was strained, the fires built, and break-
fast prepared. Many families had milk
for this meal, but we alwaj's had coffee
or chocolate, with meat and potatoes.
During breakfast the milk for the cheese

was warming over the fire, in the large
brass kettle. The milk being from the
ten cows, my mother made cheese four
days, Aunt Sarah having the milk the
remainder of the week. In this way
good-sized cheeses were obtained. The
curd having been broken into the bas-
ket, the dishes were washed, and, un-
less there was washing or other extra
work, the house was righted. By the
tune this was done the curd was read}'
for the press. Next came preparations
for dinner, which was on the table
punctually at twelve o'clock. In the
hot weather we usually had boiled salt-
ed meat and vegetables, and, if it was
baking day, a custard or pudding. If
there was linen whitening on the grass,
as was usual at this season, that must
be sprinkled. After dinner the cheeses
were turned and rubbed ; then mother
put me on a clean frock, and dressed
herself for the afternoon. Our gowns
and aprons, unless upon some special
occasion, when calico was worn, were
usually of blue checked home-made
gingham, starched and ironed to a nice
gloss.

In the sultry August afternoons
mother and Aunt Sarah usually took
their sewing to the cool back room,
whose shaded door and windows over-
looked the freshly-mown field, dotted
by apple trees. Beyond the mossy
stone wall stood the homestead of Un-
cle Samuel Thurlow (at that time this
name was pronounced Thurrell), our
next neighbor. Other buildings came
to view, interspersed with hill and
meadow, forest and orcharding. The
line of brown houses very few were
at that time painted marked the po-
sition of the main road. Across rose
the square meeting-house, crowning the
high, precipitous hill upon which it was

REMINISCENCES

perched. Farther on, the spires of the
distant seaport town glittered in the
afternoon light, which fell in brilliant
beams upon the sands of the beaches
and Plum Island, and whitened the
sails of vessels far away upon the blue
sea, whose line blended, almost imper-
ceptibly, with the tints of the sky in
the eastern horizon.

My grandmother, after her afternoon
nap, usually joined her daughters, with
a pretence at knitting, but she was not
an industrious old lady. There was no
necessity for work ; and if idle hours
are a sin, I fear the good woman had
much to answer for. Leaning back in
her easy-chair, she beguiled the time
with watching the splendid prospect,
with its ever-varying lights and shades,
or joined in the harmless gossip of
some neighboring woman, who had run
in with her sewing, for an hour's chat.

At five o'clock the men came from
the field, and tea was served. The tea
things washed, the vegetables were
gathered for the morrow, the linen tak-
en in, and other chores done. At sun-
set the cows came from the pasture.
Milking finished and the milk strained,
the day's labor was ended. The last
load pitched on the hay mow, and the
last hay cock turned up, my father and
the hired man joined us in the cool
back room, where bowls of bread and
milk were ready for those who wished
the refreshment. At nine o'clock the
house was still, the tired hands gladly
resting from the day's toil. Except
during the busiest of the hay season,
my father went regularly once a week
to the neighboring seaport town, taking
thither a load* of farm produce. For
years he supplied several families and
stores with butter, cheese, eggs, fruit
and vegetables. These market days

were joyful epochs for me, as at his re-
turn I never failed to receive some lit-
tle gift, usually sent b} T some of our
"Port" relatives and friends.

Butter making commenced in Sep-
tember ; only ' ' two meal cheese " were
made, that is, one milking of new milk
and one of skimmed to the cheese, the
cream of one milking going to the but-
ter. The weaving of woolen cloth was
begun, in order that it should be re-
turned from the mill where it was fulled,
colored and pressed in tune to be made
up before Thanksgiving. This mill
was in By field, at the Falls, on the
site of the present mill, and was owned
and run by Mr. Benjamin Pearson.
The winter's stocking yarn was also
carded and spun, and the lengthening
evenings began to be enlivened by the
busy click of knitting needles. As
Thanksgiving approached, the hurry
both in doors and out increased.

With awe I would tiptoe to the edge
of the open trap door which I had
been strictly enjoined not to approach,
to peep at the things which had been
carried into the cellar ; then I would
patiently toil after perspiring Uncle
Burrill, my favorite amongst the hired
men, as he wearily bore basket after
basket full of the long, golden ears of
Indian corn into the large garret, which
to my childish vision appeared so very
vast and mysterious.

While of an evening the males of the
family were bus}' husking on the barn
floor, b} T the light of the hunter's moon,
the females were 'equally engaged
around the sparkling fire, which the
chilly evenings rendered grateful, peel-
ing apples, pears and quinces, for
cider apple-sauce and preserves.

After the cloth had been brought
from the mill, tailor Thurrell from the

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

Falls village appeared, goose in hand,
remaining several days, to fashion my
father's and uncle's coats and breeches.
Mother, a manteau-niaker before her
marriage, had her hands more than full,
as she was not only called upon to
make the gowns for our family, but to
fit the dresses for her own mother and
sisters and others in the vicinity. As
the cold increased the cheese were car-
ried to the cellar, and the cheese room
was scoured. The week before Thanks-
giving the ox which had been stalled
for the occasion, was killed. Part of
the beef was salted, the remainder put
in a cool place, and as soon as the
weather was sufficiently cold it was
frozen, in order to preserve it fresh
through the winter. The house was
banked up ; everything without and
within made tight and trim, to defy as
much as possible the -approach of old
Boreas.

Thanksgiving brought a social sea-
son. There was much visiting and dis-
tribution of good cheer for a week
or two after that holiday. Towards
Christmas the fat hogs were killed,
the pork salted, the hams hung in the
wide chimney to cure, and the sau-
sages made. The women began to
comb flax and spin linen thread ; the
men went daily to cut and haul the year's
firewood. We were too good Puritan s
to make much account of Christmas,
though sometimes the young people at
the main road got up a ball on Christ-
mas eve, but at New Year, there was a
general interchange of good wishes,
with gifts and festivity.

As soon as the spring weather would
permit weaving without a fire, the
looms in the back chamber were set in
motion, weaving the next season's lin-
en. Next came candle-dipping, the

making of soap, and house cleaning.
The calves had been sold, churning
commenced, and butter was made until
the warmer weather brought the sum-
mer routine.

CHAPTER III.

Thanksgiving day I accompanied my
parents to my Grandfather Little's. A
visit to my mother's maiden home was
at all times one of my highest pleasures.
HfLy grandmother, a daughter of the first
pastor of the upper parish, the Rev.
William Johnson, was one of those
rare women whom every one, old and
3 T oung, rich and poor, loved and re-
vered. A minister's daughter, and
highly educated for those days, the
wisdom of my grandfather's choice as
regarded his worldly success, had been
a subject of doubt throughout the fam-
ily. His thrifty sisters all declared
that ' ' Brother Jose could never get
ahead with a wife so genteel as to wash
her hearth every day, have a border of
posies afore her front door to tend, be-
sides ruffles on her leetle gal's sleeves
to iron." Notwithstanding these dire
prognostications, Brother Jose had
reared a large family in comfort and
some elegance. The house was similar
to ours, the parlor furnished in much
the same style as my Grandmother
Smith's, with the addition of a pretty
carpet of home construction in the
centre of the floor. The arm chairs
were also decorated with wrought cush-
ion covers, and a pair of worked hold-
ers hung on either side of the fireplace,
these ornaments being the handiwork
of deft Mollie Johnson before her mar-

riage. At this time only two daugh-
ters had left the paternal roof tree.
Three sons and four daughters, with
two or three apprentices, (my grand-
father carried on shoe business in addi-
to his farming), made a large, but
pleasant and orderly household.

Father and mother, grandsir, grand-
ma'am and Uncle Bill went to meeting.
Aunt Betsy and Aunt Judy remained
at home, ostensibly to get the dinner,
but they were so bus}' preparing for a
party to which they had been invited
for the evening that most of the cook-
ing fell upon the younger, but more
quiet and staid, Aunt Sukey. Rolick-
ing Aunt Hannah, a girl of eight or
nine, ran hither and thither, poking fun
and helping everybody. Seizing the
broom, she drew the freshly-strewn
sand on the kitchen floor into a remark-
able combination of zig-zags. Next
she fell to basting the turkey, roast-
ing on a spit, which rested on brackets
on the tall iron andirons, flourish-
ing the long-handled butter ladle in
such a manner as to call forth the an-
imadversions of Aunt Sukey, who de-
clared that she would have the drip-
pings, which fell into a pan beneath,
" all over her clean hearth."

Uncle Ben, a lad of twelve, brought
wood and did other chores, meanwhile
playing so many practical jokes on his
gay elder sisters that the}* laughingly
threatened to turn him out of the
house. Roly-Poly Uncle Joe, only
three years my senior, sat beside me on
the form in the corner, where, with
great glee, we watched the proceedings
of our elders. The merry forenoon
glided away. The hands of the tall
clock in the corner of the room pointed
to twelve. Aunt Hannah set the table
with the best napery and ware, the

pickles and apple-sauce were brought,
the cider drawn, and the chafing dish
filled, ready to put on the table to keep
the gravy hot. How long those expect-
ant moments seemed ! Uncle Joe and I
ensconced ourselves at the window,
while Aunt Hannah zealously basted
the turkey, with the wish that Parson
Toppan would end that "everlasting
samion." At length the sleighs ap-
peared. There had been a fall of snow
the first of the season the night
before, and it was pretty good sleigh-
ing. The party entered, accompanied
by Aunt Nannie, the second daughter,
and her husband, Mr. John Peabody.
This young man was descended from
Lieut. Francis Peabody, born at St. Al-
bans, Hartfordshire, England, in 1614.
He came to New England in the ship
Planter, Nicholas Frarcie, master, in
1635. Mr. Peabody first resided at
Ipswich. In 1638 he went to Hamp-
ton, N. H., with the Rev. Stephen
Bachilar and twelve others. He was
made a freeman in 1642. and in 1649
was chosen, by the town of Hampton,
one of the three men ' to ende small
causes", and was confirmed in that
office by the justices of that court.
"Being minded to live nearer Boston,"
he sold his estate in Hampton and pur-
chased a farm in Topsfield, and became
a large landholder in Topsfield, Box-
ford and Rowley. He set up the first
mill in Topsfield. on a stream that flows
past the spot where he lived. Lieut.
Peabody was a man of great capacity
and influence. His wife was a daugh-
ter of Reginald Foster, whose family
is honorably mentioned in "Marmion"
and -The Lay of the Last Minstrel".
He died February 19, 1697 or 1698.
His widow died April 9, 1705. Chil-
dren : John, Joseph, William, Isaac ;

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

Sarah m. How of Ipswich ; Hepsibah
m. Rea of Salem Village ; Lydia m.
Jacob Perley ; Maiy m. John Death of
Framingham ; Ruth died before her
father ; Damaris died Dec. 19, 1G60 ;
Samuel died Sept. 13, 1677; Jacob
d. in 1664 ; Hannah d. before her fath-
er ; Nathaniel d. in 1715 without chil-
dren. Of this large family three sons
settled in Boxford, and two remained in
Topsfield. The Peabodys have been a
patriotic and brave race. Two officers
and two privates served in the French
war. Lieut. Jacob Peabody fell on the
plains of Abraham in 1759. Six offi-
cers, one chaplain, a surgeon, and as-
sistant surgeon, a 1st officer in marine
service, and five privates rendered mil-
itary service during the Revolution.
Capt. Richard Peabody commanded a
company in the Continental amry, and
sent his sons to war as fast as he was
able. Nathaniel Peabody of Atkinson,
N. H., commanded a regiment in the
war of the Revolution, and subsequent-
ly represented his state in the Conti-
nental Congress. Amongst the clergy
the Peabodys count many eminent men.
The Rev. Oliver Peabod}*, who died in
Natick ; the twin brothers, William
Oliver Bourne and Oliver William
Bourne ; Rev. David Peabody, profes-
soa in the college at Hanover ; Rev.
Andrew P. Peabody D. D., professor
of ^Harvard University, and Rev. Eph-
raim Peabody of Boston. Professor
Silliman of Yale College, descended
from a Peabody. In medicine, law
and the various walks of life, the fam-
ily reputation has been ably sustained.
Capt. John, the oldest son of Lieut.
Francis Peabody, lived in Boxford,
was made a freeman in 1674, represen-
tative from 1689 to 1691. He married
first, Hannah Andrews ; second, Surah

Mosely. He died in 1720 aged 78.
Children : John ; Thomas ; Mary mar-
ried Richard Hazen ; Lydia m. Jacob
Perley ; David born July 12, 1672 ;
Elizabeth m. David Andrew ; Nathan ;
Hannah m. Jos. Buckman ; Ruth' m.
John Wood of Boxford ; Moses. En-
sign David Peabody m. Sarah Pope of
Dartmouth. He lived in Boxford, died
April 1, 1726 aged 48. His widow d.
Sept. 29, 1756, aged 72. Children:
Thomas ; Hannah m. Jona. Fuller ol
Sutton ; Sarah m. Daniel Wood ; Mer-
cy, d. Sept. 26, 1793 ; John ; Debo-
rah, d. Aug. 21, 1736 ; Rebecca, m.
Richard Dexter ; Susanna, d. Oct.
1794; David, born Oct. 4, 1724; Ma-
ry, d. in 1736 ; David Peabody m. Ma-
ry Gaines of Ipswich, and settled on a
farm in Andover. Having become a
zealous member of the Baptist com-
munion, he moved to Haverhifl, where
a church of that denomination had
been established. A short time after
his removal he died, on Aug. 16, 1774,
aged 50. His widow died in New-
buryport, at the residence of her son-
in-law, Mr. Leonard Smith, April,
1806, aged 77. Children: Lucy m.
Peter Middleton, lived in Haverhill
and Bradford ; David d. in the West In-
dies ; Sarah m. Leonard Smith ; Mary
m. William Farmer of Bradford ; Ju-
dith m. William Butler, lived in New-
buryport ; Thomas m. Judith daughter
of Jeremiah and Judith (Spofford)
Dodge. These were the parents of
David, George, the well-known bank-
er; and Jeremiah Dodge Peabody of
Ohio. Deborah m. James Becket, re-
sided in Salem; Abigail in 1765, m.
Edmund Greenleaf of Newburyport ;
John born Feb 22, 1768 ; Josiah
Gaines m. Edna Greenough, resided in
Porstmouth. Mrs. David Peabody at

REMINISCENCES

her husband's death, was left with this
large family of young children. John
was apprenticed to learn the trade of
a shoe-maker to Mr. Josiah Bartlett of
Newbury. Upon coming of age he es-
tablished himself at the main road. In
addition to the shoe trade, he set up a
general furnishing store. March 30,
1791, he married Anna, second daugh-
ter of Joseph and Mary (Johnson)
Little, of Newbury. The } r oung couple
set up housekeeping in a house contig-
uous to the shop, which stood next be-
low the residence of Dea. John Osgood.
The Peabodys date back to Boadie, a
gallant British chieftain, who, in the
year A. D. 61, came to the rescue of
his noble and chivalrous Queen and
kinswoman, Boadicea, when "bleeding
from the Roman rods." From the dis-
astrous battle in which she lost her
crown and life, he fled to the Cambrian
mountains, in Wales. There his pos-
terity lived and became a terror to the
Lowlands. From their frequent raids
into the Roman territory, he was desig-
nated Pea Bodie (Mountain Man ; Pea
signifying mountain, and Bodie man).
Some members of the family retained
the British name, Peabody ; others an-
glicysed it into Hillman, some as the
German Bergmann, while others divid-
ed it into its constituents, thus origin-
ating the names of Hill and Mann.
There was a Peabody among the
-Knights of the Round Table, the name
being registered with due heraldric
honors, by command of King Arthur.
Boadie, with his own hand, killed
Galbuta, a distinguished Roman gener-
al, and, following the custom of assum-
ing the arms of the vanquished if he
were a person of note, Boadie copied
the two suns proper from the armor of

Galbuta and adopted them as his own
arms.

PARTY PER FESS NEBUI.E, GULES, AZURE,

TWO SUNS PROPER. WITH A GARB,

CREST AND EAGLE.

Dinner was immediately set upon the
table. Grace having been said, due
justice was given to the turkey and plum
pudding. Aunt Sukey receiA'ed many
encomiums upon her cooking, part of
which Aunt Hannah declared she should
appropriate. " Sukey never would
have basted that turkey as I did, for
fear of injuring her fine complexion."
Then the wild little minx, as her sisters
termed her, fell to clearing the table,
having first stirred the kettle of boiling
dish-water with the knives and forks,
"in order that it should not boil away
the beaux." The girls washed the din-
ner things ; the others repaired to the
"fore room", where Uncle Ben had a
bright fire blazing across the shiny
black fire-dogs, with nigger faces, which
my roguish young uncle wished me to
admire. Aunt Hannah called me to go
with her up stairs, to see the girls
dress.

When Nannie was married, their
father had given his two next oldest
daughters silk dresses. This had
called forth severe animadversion from
his sisters. "To think of Brother

OF A

Jose's extravagance ; and he had
bought all of them, but Hanner, gold
necklaces, ear-drops and a finger ring !
Well, they allers said he never could
be forehanded when he married Mollie
Johnson, she was so high bred and had
so much 'Port' company." These and
similar speeches, which, somehow, al-
wa}'s got reported to the subject of
them, caused my grandfather's family
much diversion. Miss Betty Brad-
street, a wealthy cousin of my grand-
mother, a maiden lady, and a resident
of the "Port", had upon a recent visit
brought my two aunts each a brooch to
match theii\; t ear-drops, and the girls
made themselves very meriy over what
their father's sisters would say to this
addition to their finery, each devoutly
hoping that they would never know but
their brother had purchased them.
The brown silks were vastly becoming.
They were made with full skirts, tight
waists, low square necks, with tight
sleeves reaching just below the elbow,
finished by a ruflie, with an under one
of lace. The neck was covered by a
square white muslin handkerchief, doub-
led and tucked under the dress, im-
mensely puffed out in front, long black
net mitts covered the hands and arms,
and when the jewelry was added, to my
childish eyes my two girlish aunts pre-
sented the very acme ot splendor.

My mother and aunts were ver}' hand-
some women. Never did six sisters
more closely resemble each other. I
have often heard it remarked, that in
after years, when dressed alike in
mourning, at a funeral, it was difficult
to distinguish one from another. I
would that their portraits were extant ;
they would form a rare galaxy of
beauty. Of medium hight, trim fig-
ures, small hands and feet, black

hair and eyes (with the exception of
Nannie's, whose were deep blue) , fair
skin, cherry lips, white teeth, a brilliant
color, the eyes sparkling, with much ex-
pression in conversation, a lively mien,
tempered by much grace and sensibili-
ty, great courtesy and kindness of
heart little wonder that the six Little
girls should become the reigning toasts
of the period. Their toilets completed,
my aunts joined the rest in the parlor.
Nuts were cracked, apples roasted, a
mug of flip was made, songs sung and
stories told. At dusk father went home
to do his chores ; soon after, Amos Chase
and Stephen Bartlett came to take their
affianced to the party. These young
gentlemen were amiyed in blue coats,
with brass buttons, buff vests, satin
breeches, silk stockings, silver knee and
shoe buckles, their hair frizzled, pow-
dered and cued.

The evening's entertainment was at
Deacon Tenuey's. Mrs. Tenney, my
father's eldest sister, like my grand-
mother Little, had a house full of girls.
The deacon, though honoring his office,
was the prince of hospitality, and an in-
vitation to his house gave occasion for
much satisfaction. After the young
people had gone, Mr, and Mrs. Pea-
body and Uncle Bill having accompan-
ied them, grandsir, grandma'm and my
mother drew round the fire for a quiet
chat. We children went into the kitch-
en to play blind man's buff, aunt Su-
key, much to our delight, condescending
to join in the sport. At seven o'clock,
my father having returned, supper was
served. Soon after, as my eyelids, not-
withstanding strenuous exertions to the
contrary, would shut, mother declared
it was time for home.

The next da}' we dined and spent the
evening in my grandmother Smith's

REMINISCENCES

room. Uncle and aunt Thurrell came
to tea, and other neighboring relatives
dropped in for the evening. Saturday
afternoon mother had company, but as
Saturday night was considered holy
time, they left at an early hour. The
next week was one continued festival.
Visiting was general throughout the
parish. Each one's skill in cooking
was discussed, and the merits of differ-
ent persons' mince pies and plum cake
pronounced. Nor was the visiting con-
fined to the females, the gentlemen of-
ten came alone. Two of four neigh-
bors for j'ears made it a practice to
come together to take tea with us the
week following Thanksgiving. Never
shall I forget the gusto with which they
demolished the huge piles of dipped
toast, or the way they smacked their
lips over the pies and cake, all the
while declaring "that for cooking, little
Prudy Smith bore the palm."

CHAPTER IV.

The Puritan Sabbath commenced at
sunset Saturday night a literal inter-
pretation of the scripture text "And
the evening and the morning were the
first day." Supper eaten, silence and
rest settled over the household. To
most this was a grateful period of re-
pose, in which, in the long evenings,
they were only to happy too fold their
hands and doze away the hours till the
early bedtime, eight o'clock being the
usual hour for retiring on that night.
Others were glad of this leisure for read-
ing, but many could not have been in-
duced to peruse anything save the Bible,
psalm book, a sermon or some religious
treatise. My father and mother were

less strict. Father usually passed the
time in conning the columns of the
"Independent Chronicle and Universal
Advertiser," a weekly sheet of small
size, printed by "Nathaniel AVillis.
Boston, opposite the New Court
House," which was taken conjointly
with Uncle Amos Dole. In 1793
"The Impartial Herald," ( Newbury-
port Herald) was established in New-
buryport.

Deacon Tenney had a thriving tobac-
conist business, and he went to Boston
two or three times a month, with snuff
and cigars ; upon his return he usually
brought some reading matter. This
was a rare treat, especially to my moth-
er. Saturday evening was an oasis in
her life of toil ; the one space of soul
refreshment eagerly anticipated through
the week, but I fear her studies would
not always have been pronounced can-
onical. Great-grandfather Johnson's
3'oungest daughter married Master Si-
mon Chase, a school teacher of much
renown, and a man devoted to litera-
ture. Besides man}* books of his own,
to which he was constantly adding, he
had, through his wife, come into poses-
sion of most of her father's library.
This couple resided in the former par-
sonage, even'thing still remaining as it
had been in the minister's lifetime.
Mother, being a frequent visitor at her
aunt Hannah's, was usually supplied
with a book from their shelves, and
father sometimes brought her one of the
love-laden romances of the period,
loaned to her by some of her "Port"
friends.

Sunday, if in health, everybody was
expected to attend public worship. In
warm weather, grandmother and Aunt
Sarah drove together in the square
topped chaise. Uncle Enoch usually

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

walked ; my father rode on his hand-
some horse, my mother riding on the
pillion behind him. At a very early
age, as I was a quiet little girl, much
to my jo} r I was permitted to go to
meeting, and usually rode between my
grandmother and aunt in the chaise, but
sometimes was perched on mother's
lap, a ride I vastly enjoyed, espescially
if father put his horse to a gallop.

Never shall I forget my first advent
at meeting. Great had been the prep-
aration for this public appearance, for
mother had a good share of wholesome
sort of pride, and, as was natural for
a youthful matron, wished her little
daughter to look as prett}' as possible.
Grandmother Little owned a famously
embroidered, linen cambric christening
frock, and this garment having done ser-
vice at all the baptisms, was now remod-
elled for my Sunday dress. Mother con-
structed a tasty green silk bonnet, and
Grandfather Little presented a pair of
red shoes, of his own make.

The meeting house, a square, weather
embrowned structure, without steeple
or bell, crowned a high hill, up which a
stony road wound in steep ascent. A
horse block for the convenience of the
pillion riders stood by the front steps,
and a long row of low sheds, shelter for
the horses, extended to the left. The
interior was a handsome specimen
of the ecclesiastical architecture of the
period. The wide front door led
through a broad aisle to a high pulpit
furnished with green cushions. A
sounding board depended from the ceil-
ing above, and the communion table
stood in front. A sounding board usu-
ally was about eight feet in diameter,
and shaped like an inverted wine-glass
flattened toward the brim ; it hung
some six feet above the pulpit cushion.

Generally this adjunct to the sacred
desk displa} r ed gracefulness of design
and beaut}' of decoration. A circular
moulding enclosed the suspending rod
where it entered the ceiling. This ap-
pendage was to aid the speaker by
equally diffusing the sound of the voice
in every part of the building.

The broad aisle was intersected by a
narrower one, into which side entrances
opened. Another aisle ran around the
edifice, separating the wall pews from
those in the body of the house. These
pews were enclosed by handsomely
turned balusters. Front of the pulpit
were rows of seats, for the accommo-
dation of those wishing to be near
the preacher, or elderly persons who
were not pew holders. The benches to
the right were for females, those to the
left for males. The singers occupied
the front gallery, to which a flight of
stairs led each side of the front door.
The side galleries were furnished with
one long pew, extending the length of
the wall ; the space in front was filled
with benches. The wall pew to the
right was set apart for the young wom-
en ; girls occupied the centre tier of
benches, while the front was filled by
middle-aged women. The opposite gal-
lery was similarly occupied by young
men in the wall pew, boys and men on
the benches. The large, square pews,
in addition to the seats, were furnished
with one or two high-backed chairs,
which stood in the centre. These were
commonly of rich wood, handsomely
carved, with flag seats. These chairs
were the posts of honor, and were usu-
ally occupied by elderly ladies. Be-
sides the chairs, there was generally
one or more high stools, for the accom-
modation of the more infantile portion
of the congregation. Ours was a wall

REMINISCENCES

pew, the second to the right from the
front door. My grandmother led me
in and placed me on a stool beside her
chair. Mother, somewhat flustered,
but looking proud and pleased, seated
herself behind me, and Aunt Sarah
fidgeted around, placing the highest
footstool beneath my feet. How vast
and splendid everything seemed! At
length I began to take in details and
recognize my relatives and acquaint-
ances. There were Grandsir's and
Uncle John Little's pew ; Uncle Thur-
rell's ; the Doles' ; those of Aunt Sara,
Col. Thomas ; Mr. Stephen and Enoch
Noyes, Deacon Osgood, Mr. Newell,
the Emerys, Carrs, Bartletts, Follans-
bees, Baileys, Uncle John and Deacon
Abel Merrill, Dr. Sawyer ; the parson-
age pew, to the left of the pulpit ; those
of the Plummers, Woodmans, Chases,
Ilsleys, Bricketts, Hills, Adamses,
Carletons and Jaques. The pew match-
ing that of the parsonage, to the right of
the pulpit, had several owners, and bore
the designation of ''Everybody's pew".
Elderly women in close, black silk bon-
nets, and thick silks or bright chintzes,
quietly seated themselves, with demure,
"Sabba' day" faces. More youthful
matrons and maidens glided in, radiant
in lighter silks, white muslins or cam-
bric calicoes, and silk hats of various
hues, gail}" trimmed with ribbons, flow-
ers or long, waving plumes. Little
folks, like myself, stared about, or
twirled the balusters of the pews.
The three deacons Tenney, Merrill
and Osgood entered and took their
places beneath the pulpit. Par-
son Toppan, in his black gown and
white bands, accompanied by his wife
and family, walked majestically up the
broad aisle. There was the clatter of
many feet, as the minister's entrance

was the signal for the men and boys
who had been grouped around the
meeting-house, to come in. Tithing-
man Tewkesbury, his long pole in hand,
took his place amidst the boys in the
gallery ; Sexton Cooper tip-toed to his
seat on the pulpit stairs. Parson Top-
pan rose and read two lines of a psalm ;
Deacon Osgood stepped forward and
repeated them ; mother's cousin, Ed-
mund Little, with a pitch-pipe, set the
tune ; the choir sang the lines ; the two
next were given out, and thus the
psalm was sung. This was followed
by a long prayer and a longer sermon.
The benediction pronounced, there was
a moment's pause ; then the minister
descended from the pulpit, took his
wife upon his arm, and, followed by his
children, proceeded down the aisle, the
clerical cortege gracefully returning the
respectful bows and courtsies of the
congregation. The clergyman's family
was followed by the more aristocratic
persons from the pews ; these by the
remainder of the audience. Many peo-
ple, especially in cold weather, took
their dinner, and staid at the meeting-
house during the short intermission.
In winter Ave rode in the large, high-
backed sleigh. Sometimes, when storm
and wind had prevented the breaking
of the paths, father and Uncle Enoch
walked to meeting on their snow shoes,
and Mr. Josiah Bartlett would yoke
his oxen and take his large faniily
thither on the sled.

CHAPTER V.

The fourth parish in Newbury, like
its predecessor at the river side, and
the parent societ}' at Old town, belong-

OF A NOKAGEXAKLAJST.

ed to what might be termed, the low
church wing of Congregationalism.
The Rev. William Johnson had been
strongly opposed to the more rigid
views of some of his brethren in the
ministry. He would not admit the re-
nowned Whitefield into his pulpit, and
the great revivalist was obliged to
preach in a private house.

I have often heard my great aunt
Sara Noyes describe the sensation pro-
duced by the eloquent divine. My
greatgrandfather, Deacon John Noyes,
fully sympathized in the disapproval
evinced by his pastor, and he issued a
strict edict forbidding any of his fam-
ily attending what he termed "those
disorderly assemblies." Aunt Sara,
then a girl in her teens, entertained, as
was natural, a strong desire to see and
hear one whose name was on every
tongue, and whose words and their
effects were the chief topics of conver-
sation on every side. At last, after
much fear and trembling, she musr
tered courage to make a clandes-
tine attempt to satisfy her curiosity.
An evening meeting was to be
held at a house in the vicinity,
and she determined to brave her fath-
er's displeasure, if her absence was
discovered, and go. It was a dark,
cheerless night, when, with a throbbing
heart, stealing down the stairs and
noiselessly opening the door, she ran
lightly down the gravel' walk. Her
hand was on the latch of the front
gate, when a voice, in an authoritative
tone, exclaimed ' ' Go back ! " Startled,
affrighted, she stopped, turned, and
peered on all sides into the darkness.
No one was in sight. Through the un-
curtained window she could see her
father and the other members of her
family seated around the bright wood

fire. Concluding that, owing to the
nervous timidity which this disobedi-
ence to paternal mandates had caused,
imagination had conjured up this voice,
with another long 1 and searching look
around, she opened the gate. " Go
back ! " reiterated the voice, even more
decidedly than at first, just in her ear.
What could it mean? Again she
stopped, waited, looked and listened.
Nothing unusual could be seen, and
not a sound could be heard save the
wind sighing through the trees. Sara
Noyes was a resolute girl, not easily
turned from any purpose she had de-
liberately formed, neither had she much
belief in the supernatural. Thrusting
back her fears, with a strong will she
stilled her throbbing heart, and with a
firm step, she again started forward.
"Go back, go back," thundered the
voice, in such a powerful and author-
itative tone, that, thrilling in every
nerve, the astonished girl, completely
subdued, hastily turned, and fled into
the house. Though she lived to a great
age, and could never be reckoned a
credulous person, to the last hour of
her life she firmly believed that this was
a Divine interposition to keep her from
evil.

The Rev. David Toppan, the succes-
sor of the Rev. William Johnson, enter-
tained even more liberal tenets than
his predecessor. A genial, courteous
gentleman, ready to sympathize with
his charge, in their various phases of
weal and woe. Parson Toppan was a
universal favorite. His marriage with
a towns- woman, Miss Mary Sawyer,
the daughter of Dr. Enoch Sawyer,
drew him still nearer to the hearts of his,
people.

The intelligence that their pastor
contemplated leaving for a professor-

ship at Harvard, which began to be
circulated in the spring of 1792,
brought both consternation and grief.
It could not be. A minister ought to
live and die amidst the people over
which he had been ordained. After
many contradictory rumors the matter
became at length decided. At the
Thursday lecture, Parson Toppan, after
a brief summary of the conflicting
opinions then agitating the churches,
announced the invitation he had re-
ceived to a professorship at the college
at Cambridge, and his intention of ac-
cepting it. "This decision had been
made after much hesitation and prayer-
ful consideration. Heresy was creep-
ing into the institution, and it was in-
cumbent upon every one to put forth
their full power in support of sound
doctrine. Neither the honor nor the
emolument had borne a feather's weight
in this separation from his beloved
charge, but what he considered a call
to a higher duty, gave him no option
but to obey." At these words, up jump-
ed old Mr. Moses Newell, and with
ire imprinted on his countenance, shak-
ing his clenched fist at his pastor, he
shouted, "you lie, Parson Toppan, you
know 3'ou lie." Instantly the congre-
gation was in commotion, but the min-
ister by his quiet demeanor and calm
tones quelled the tumult ; order was
restored, Mr. Toppan closed the servi-
ces, and the audience dispersed with
sorrow in their hearts, and grief im-
printed upon their faces, but with the
firm conviction that their pastor was
right ; painful as this separation was,
it must be made ; inclination must be
sacrificed to duty. Old Mr. Newell
became pacified. His wife and son ex-
erted themselves to this end. The old
gentleman apologized, and invited the

clergyman and his wife to dine, with a
small party of select friends, at his
house. There were many parting vis-
its, and a general catechising of the
children throughout the parish.

It was the custom to hold these cat-
echisings annually, sometime during
the spring or summer, usually on some
afternoon in the middle of the week, in
a house centrally located in each school
district. As Parson Toppan wished to
personally bid adieu to every child of
his large flock, the catechising was ap-
pointed somewhat earlier that year than
usual. The children of our district
met at nry grand father Little's. Though
I was young to attend, being a pet of
the parson's, who was a frequent visitor
of the family, much to my delight I
was permitted to go. With a throb-
bing heart, clinging to aunt Hannah's
hand on one side and uncle Joe's on
the other, I entered the large parlor
where sat my grandparents and older
aunts. Parson Toppan occupied the
large arm chair which he drew into the
centre of the floor. The children
ranged in a line in front. Having tak-
en our places the recitations com-
menced. With much care mother had
taught me the " chief end of man,"
and one or two of the shortest com-
mandments. Though terribly flustered
till nry turn came, when it was my time
to speak I was so earnest to repeat the
lesson right that this self-consciousness
passed ; thus I was enabled to do my-
self due credit. The good minister
and my grandparents and aunts praised
me, the elder children gathered around,
petting and caressing the smallest and
youngest of the class. Altogether it
was as great a triumph as I ever achiev-
ed or enjoyed. The catechisings and
parting visits were over. The last, sad

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

Sunday came and a farewell sermon
was preached, the last tearful parting
had passed, and the upper parish be-
came a society without a pastor.

Candidates began to supply the pul-
pit. Once a mouth one of the neigh-
boring clergymen came to preach and
administer the communion. The Rev.
Barnard Tucker of the Oldtown socie-
ty died that March. His successor,
Rev. Mr. Moore, was not settled until
about two years later. At the " Port"
at that period there were three socie-
ties : The First Church, where Parson
Gary had succeeded Dr. Lowell, the
first minister ; the Old South , where
the venerable and sainjly Parson Mur-
ray still occupied the pulpit ; and the
North, where the Hopkinsian Dr.
Spring poured forth his fiery zeal.
There was also St. Paul's Episcopal
church, of which Bishop Bass was rec-
tor, but with this society ours, of
course, had no communion.

I well remember the delight my
mother always expressed when Parson
Cary preached. He was her favorite
minister, but most of her town rela-
tions and friends attended on his min-
istration, and many of the halcyon days
of her maidenhood had been connected
with this clergyman and his people.
This may have induced an undue par-
tiality, still from my childish impress-
ion I infer that Parson Cary, until
broken by ill health, was both a fine
writer and an eloquent speaker.

The Rev. True Kimball was at this
time pastor of the Second parish in
Newbury, and the Byfield parish had
recently ordained the Rev. Elijah- Par-
ish, afterwards the distinguished Fed-
eralist divine, whose alpha and omega
thundered over the land. His eminent
talents and commanding eloquence had

then just begun to attract public atten-
tion. There was also Master Smith,
the preceptor of Dummer Academy.
He often came over to fill the pulpit
when other supply failed. I was great-
ly amused with this preacher. Short,
stout and plethoric, with an abrupt, ab-
sent air, and a most singular pronunci-
ation, this gentleman was a never- fail-
ing object for merriment amongst the
juveniles of the congregation. One of
his peculiarities was never closing his
eyes when in prayer. People said he
had acquired the habit of praying with
his eyes open in school, keeping watch
and ward over a parcel of unruly boys.
Whatever the reason, he used to step
forward in the pulpit, clasp his hands
on the cushion, and in short, curt tones
exclaim: "Ulmitty Gud ! " This was
the unvarjing commencement of his
opening prayer. The preceptor had
the reputation of being a great linguist.
It was affirmed that he knew so many
languages that he had partly forgotten
his own. Whether or no, the man was
a great oddity ; one of those isolated
beings whose characteristics are wholly
originalities.

The neighboring town of Bradford,
that part of which is now Groveland,
also rejoiced in another somewhat re-
markable clergyman. Parson Dutch
was what is denominated a smart
preacher. He was also distinguished
for his equine tastes and jockey predi-
lections. I have often heard my father
laugh over an incident that occurred
one Sunday about the time of which I
am writing. It was a hot summer day,
the doors of the meeting-house were
wide open. Parson Dutch had come to
preach. He had risen to open the
afternoon service, when a stranger,
mounted upon a superb charger, rode;

REMINISCENCES

up to the front entrance. Tying his
steed opposite the door, he entered the
sanctuary. Parson Dutch, from the
pulpit, commanded a full view of the
horse, and his audience averred that he
watched it "all through the sermon."
Father said : " If it had not been Sab-
ba' day the parson would have proposed
a swap ; he knew he longed to bargain.
He thought he would, spite of the day
and his cloth."

Father Frisby, as he was universally
denominated, a much-beloved and ven-
erated old man, was the minister at the
adjacent town of Boxford. "We had
many candidates, amongst whom were
young men that in later years became
"burning and shining lights."

Year after year rolled past, and still
we were without a minister. Like the
rest of New England, the parish became
divided in sentiment, part adhering to
the Arminian tenets, the others going
over to what was called the Hopkiusian
side.

CHAPTER VI.

The summer I was four years old I
began to attend school. The school-
house in our district was not erected unr
til some years later, the scholars being
accommodated, up to that period, in a
private house on the Crane-neck road,
a short distance below where the pres-
ent school edifice is located. My first
teacher, Master Zack. Bacon, was a na-
tive of Bradford. Female teachers
would then have been deemed inadmis-
sible in a district school. It would not
have been thought possible that order
could be maintained under feminine
rule, where often more than half the

scholars were unruly boj'S, many of the
eldest men grown.

The school was taught in the larger
of the two front rooms, the remainder
of the house being occupied by my
mother's cousin, Edmund Little. We
entered by the front door ; the hats and
bonnets were hung in the entry. The
schoolroom was furnished with a desk
and a flag-seated chair for the teacher ;
a clumsy square board table stood in
the centre of the apartment, surround-
ed by high, wooden benches. Here
were seated the older pupils ; the
younger were placed upon low forms
ranged around the walls. The scholars
were divided i$ito four ranks : the
" Bible," " Testament," " Spelling
Book" and "Primer" classes. Dil-
worth's spelling book was the one then
in use. The older scholars studied
arithmetic, and wrote. Writing books
were a later invention. A strong, coarse
paper of foolscap size was then used,
either in single sheets or several stitched
together in book form. This paper, be-
ing plain, was ruled. Lead pencils were
then a thing unknown ; a plummet of
lead supplied their place. These plum-
mets were usually of home construction,
and were cut in various devices, to suit
the taste of the owner. The arithmet-
ical rules and sums were also copied in-
to books kept specially for that purpose.
Master Bacon, a short, slight young
man, somewhat of a dandy, and fresh
from college, was a little inclined to
what is now denominated "fast".
Though one of the liveliest and most
entertaining of mortals out of school,
within he maintained a stem decorum,
quite awful to a timid novice, like my-
self; but, as I had already mastered
my alphabet and was exceedingly fasci-
nated by my new primer, I immediately

OF A NOKAGENAKIAtf.

became a favorite with the teacher.
With what sadness I used to gaze at
that memorable picture of John Rogers
at the stake. How many times I have
counted the heads, to ascertain whether
there were ten or eleven little ones.
How my s3 T mpathies went out to those
poor children and their distressed moth-
er.

With what genuine delight I would

con-

" In Adam's fall
We sinned all.
The cat dotli play,
And after slay."

With what pride I would repeat : "Who
was the first man ? Adam ; Who was
the first woman ? Eve : Who was the
first murderer? Cain; Who was the
first martyr ? Abel ; " and the remain-
der of the long list of Biblical biogra-
phy.

The first morning Master Bacon
opened the school without prayer. The
scholars reported, and in the evening
he was waited upon by several of the
dignitaries of the district, to ascertain
the cause of the omission. The gentle-
man excused the oversight, with the
promise that it should never be repeat-
ed. Accordingly we scholars were fa-
vored henceforth with an unusually long
petition morning and evening, the gen-
tleman assuring his chums that he had
as lief pray as do anything else for
the money. Master Bacon taught the
school for two years, with much accept-
ance ; he then removed to a wider
sphere of action. Afterward he emi-
grated to Vermont, where he became a
leading citizen.

His successor was Samuel Moody
from the Falls parish. This gentle-
man, a very handsome and well-brec
young man, besides being an excellen
teacher, was proficient as a violinist

lis fiddle was a never-failing source of
delight. I was a great favorite with
Master Sam. He always led me home
rom school, and as he boarded at my
great-uncle John Little's, I was daily
favored with a tune.

Master Ned Longfellow, also from
Byfield, next taught the school. He
soon after removed to Maine, where he
Became distinguished. It is from this
family that the poet, Henry Wads worth
Longfellow, is descended.

The summer I was eight years old a
Miss Ruth Emerson, from Hamp stead,
N. H., collected a select school. There
were from twenty to thirty scholars,
mostly girls ; there were a few small
bo}-s. I believe the tuition was but six
cents a week. This lady promoted us
into " Webster's Spelling Book" and
"Webster's Third Part" books then
just coming into use. Miss Emerson
was a most accomplished needlewoman,
inducting her pupils into the mysteries
of ornamental marking and embroidery.
This fancy work opened a new world of
delight. I became perfectly entranced
over a sampler that was much admired,
and a muslin handkerchief, that I
wrought for mother, became the wonder
of the neighborhood.

My father had purchased the portion
of the homestead inherited by his
brother Samuel, and that gentleman,
after much hesitation and deliberation,
at length decided upon the arduous un-
dertaking of emigrating to a new coun-
try. Several of his wife's relations had
recently located themselves upon farms
in Vermont. Mrs. Smith was anxious
to join them. " She was tired of living
in such an old-settled place, where, un-
less one possessed a large farm, for
years they must play second fiddle,
screw and scrimp to secure a mere com-

REMINISCENCES

petence. For her part she preferred to
go into the wilderness, where, if things
were not as nice, one lived as their
neighbors. She had rather be at
the 'head of the poor than the tail
of the rich.' In Vermont, where
land was cheap, they could secure a
goodly number of acres. The boys
would become more useful every year.
In time they could get forehanded ; be
as well off as any one. Then, as her
husband possessed fine literary tastes
and some culture, it opened a sphere
for his ambition. She would not be
surprised if he became an influential
and distinguished citizen."

Swedenborg affirms that man posses-
ses the understanding, and woman the
will. Uncle Sam, after mature consid-
eration, could find no valid reason for
insubordination to the feminine will ; a
tract of land in the town of Berlin was
purchased, and the preparations for a
removal thither commenced. February
was the time set for the flitting, as that
mouth usually gave the best sledding,
a great desideratum for the transmis-
sion of the household goods. Such a
flurry as the whole family and all its
collateral branches were in, for several
weeks, seldom occurs in a life-time.
Clothing for a year or two in advance
must be prepared. One sister cut a
generous quarter from her web of linen ;
another from her fulled cloth ; a third
presented blankets ; another relative
gave cloth for woolen dresses, and
stocking yarn. Several ladies, rela-
tives and friends, clubbed together and
bought a number of handsome articles
as parting gifts. There was a round
of farewell visits, each of which was
turned into a sewing-bee for the benefit
of the emigrants. A large sleigh was
constructed, which was covered by one

ofthe check ed woolen coverlets then so
much used. A quantity of provisions
was provided, cooked meats and poul-
try, pies, cake, doughnuts, bread, but-
ter and cheese were packed into a
wooden box ; this, other luggage, a
feather bed, bedding and coverlets,
were placed in the sleigh, along with
the family. It was necessary to thus
prepare for th^e night's accomodation,
as the houses of entertainment on the
route were few in number, small, and
often over-crowded. The furniture was
loaded upon two ox-sleds. My father
drove his sled, to which was attached
a 3*oke of oxen and a horse. Mr. Bai-
le} r , Aunt Smith's brother, drove the
other team. Uncle Sam had a yoke of
oxen forward of his brother's pair, and
another relative drove his four cows.
It was a clear, frosty morning when the
cavalcade took their departure. A sad
parting to all, but especially to me,
as my cousin Sally, a girl of my own
age, and nry other cousins, had been
my playmates from infancy. A lone-
some fortnight followed : two weeks
that, then, appeared as long as two years
have since. To add to 1113* discomfort
and loneliness, my little brother, like
other baby boys, toddling into mischief,
contrived, during the momentary ab-
sence of mother, to pull over the tea-
kettle, which was standing in the chim-
ney corner, scalding his right arm and
hand badly.

Mother went silently about the house
with a worried look. Grandmother
dozed through the da}*s in her low
chair, tipped back against the ceiling
by the fireplace. Aunt Sarah was not
half as brisk and cheery as usual, and
Uncle Enoch grew decidedly surly.
Poor little Jim's arm grew worse,
Mother and Aunt Sarah became anx-

OP A NONAGENARIAN.

ious, when one of the neighbors brought
in Mrs. Salter's recipe for a- burn.
Mrs. Salter, a somewhat noted woman
at the "Port," had effected many cures.
It was concluded to try the prescrip-
tion. A linen glove and sleeve were
fitted over the burn ; these were kept
saturated with a mixture of olive oil
and snow water, beat to a froth. In
less than a week the sore was healed
and a new skin formed. The sun was
just setting, on the twenty-first day of
father's absence ; I was dragging little
Jim across the sanded floor upon his
tiny sled, when Aunt Sarah's glad tones
reverberated over the house " Broth-
er Jim 's come ; Brother Jim 's coming
up the lane." There was a general
rush to the back door. Yes, oh joy !
there was father, unyoking his oxen at
the gate. A regular jubilee ensued.
The sirloin steak that had been kept
for this occasion was cooked ; a plate
of the nicest cream toast dipped ; the
best mince pie, plum cake, doughnuts,
cheese and preserves were placed upon
the table. Grandma'am, Aunt Sarah
and Uncle Enoch joined us at supper.
After tea, as the news spread that
"Jim Smith had got home," the neigh-
bors flocked in to hear of the journey
and the new country which he had vis-
ited. The room was soon filled, and a
cordial welcome was given to the trav-
eller. We could not but be pleased at
the evident satisfaction manifested at
father's safe return. I was permitted to
sit up till an unwonted hour, to hear a
description of the journey ; of the slow
progress through the long, cold daj r s ;
and the weary nights at the small, in-
convenient taverns, which were often so
crowded that the males of the company
were obliged to sleep on the kitchen
floor, wrapped in their coverlets. At the

end of a tedious week the new home
was reached. One of Aunt Smith's
brothers [lived in a log house, roofed
with bark ; with a stone chimney ;
the other Mr. Bailey had put up
a good-sized frame house. The brick
chimney was built, the outside fin-
ished, and the floors laid, but the
rooms were not partitioned. There
was, however, sufficient space. Quilts
and coverlets were suspended from the
beams. Uncle Sam's family went to
housekeeping one side of the chimney,
while Mr. Bailey's occupied the other
side. A saw mill was near ; Uncle
Sam immediately began to cut timber
and haul it to the mill, and he expect-
ed to get up a house and barn that
would be tenantable by warm weather.
Father had not caught the emigrant
fever ; he was a home bod}', firmly
attached to the ancestral acres. "If he
left Massachusetts he should prefer to
go South rather than North. Still,
Vermont was a fine state ; a great grain
and grazing country." The Baileys had
raised a large crop of wheat of an extra
quality. Father bought a quantit}' of
the grain, and brought it home in a
board chest which he constructed and
fastened to his sled for that purpose.
This was quite a successful speculation,
as he paid only a dollar per bushel ahd
it sold readily at home for a dollar and
a half. It must be remembered that
the family flour barrel had not then
come into vogue. Wheat was raised
upon the farm, or bought and ground
by the bushel. Bolts had been put into
most of the mills, but some families
still used their flour unbolted. Indian
meal and rye, especially rye, were the
staples for daily use in most house-
holds. Baiie}- was also raised and
ground, but wheat flour was somewhat

REMINISCENCES

of a luxury ; a housekeeper felt rich
with a bushel or two on hand, and it
was made to last a long time.

CHAPTER VII.

On July 19th, 1794, occurred one of
those catastrophes that send a thrill of
horror and anguish throughout the com-
munity. My seventh birth-day came a
few days previous. Aunt Hannah Lit-
tle and myself had been for some time
anticipating the pleasure of spending
the anniversary with m}~ mother's aunt,
Mrs. Simeon Chase. This lad}- still
occupied the paternal homestead. The
, parish, then an infant one just gather-
ed, had not, at the settlement of the
Rev. William Johnson, provided a par-
sonage. The clergyman purchased sev-
eral acres near the meeting-house, upon
which he erected a house and farm
buildings. The mansion, a square, dou-
ble house, with a chimney at either end,
stood a little below the meeting-house,
on the opposite side of the street, just
bej'ond the brow of the hill. A narrow
lawn, shaded by maples, extended in
front, a picket fence separating it from
the grassy country road from which a
gravel walk led up to. the front en-
trance. A carriage drive ran round
the end to a side door, and to the barn
and other buildings in the rear. Mrs.
Chase 'and another sister, afterwards
Mrs. Mood}', were unmarried at the
time of their father's decease. As the
other sisters had each received a full
"fixing out," the furniture of the house
had been given to these two single
daughters. At his marriage, Master
Simeon Chase bought the Parsonage,

the library and other appertenances ;
consequently the premises at that time
presented nearly the same aspect they
had borne during the first pastor's life.

Madame Johnson's father, Dr. Hum-
phrey Bradstreet, had furnished his
daughter's new house in a style not fre-
quent in those days. The principal
entrance opened into a spacious hall,
handsomely furnished in dark wood,
from which a highly ornamented stair- .
case led to the story above. The white
wall was decorated with the portraits of
Lieut. Governor Dummer and his wife,
and a view of Harvard College. Under
the pictures stood a large, massive din-
ing table. The parlor, a square, pleas-
ant room, was to the left of the en-
trance. Its three windows commanded
a lovely view of the surrounding coun-
try and the river, bounded by the roll-
ing hills of its farther shore. This
room displayed an unusual embellish-
ment ; the walls were hung with a velvet
paper, a purple figure on a buif ground.

Papered walls had not yet become
common, no paste was used ; four pol-
ished hard wood convex r slats running
round the room held the hangings in
place. Small, slender brass andirons,
and a tiny brass shovel and tongs
adorned the tiled fireplace, an antique
table, its legs curiously carved and or-
namented, stood between the front win-
dows ; over it hung a mirror in a black
and gilt frame ; the chairs were cane
seated and a strip of cane was inserted
into the high, carved backs. An arm-
chair occupied one corner ; opposite
stood the buffet, lustrous with rich
silver, brightly painted china and glasses
of various shapes and graceful device.
The libraiy, the opposite front room,
had shelves round the two sides, well
filled with books, and a study table in

OF A NONOGENARIA1T.

the centre. Master Chase kept a pri-
vate school in this apartment part of
the year. The back sitting-room was
supplied with more common furniture,
and a press-bed that turned up in a re-
cess behind folding doors . The kitchen,
the other back room, had been furnished
with every convenience then considered
requisite for the domestic purposes of a
large family ; the fireplace was huge,
even for those days, and the long dres-
ser shimmered with an array of bright
pewter.

Master Chase, a very eccentric per-
son, was his wife's senior by several
years, and he was fond of relating how
he had never dreamed of marr}*ing lit-
tle Hannah Johnson when, at her fath-
er's desire, she used to draw a tankard
of cider for his refreshment upon his
calls on the clergyman in his college va-
cations. The pair were childless for
fifteen years of married life ; then a lit-
tle girl was born to them. This event
caused such a sensation, was such a
wonder throughout the family and the
vicinity, that the Master declared the
babe's name should be Myra. Myra,
therefore, she was christened. Little
Myra, on the watch for her expected
guests, met us at the gate ; Aunt Chase,
a slight, black-eyed woman, bade us
welcome at the door. After a lunch,
Myra took us over the premises. The
Master taught one or the other of the
district schools in the town during the
winter, but through the summer he re-
ceived pupils at home, j'ouths fitting
themselves in the higher branches of
learning, for college or mercantile life.
School over, we went into the library.
How numerous the books looked. Else-
where I had never found more than a
dozen or so in a house, and we were
much amused with the plates in illus-

trated copies of Josephus, and Homer's
Ih'ad. The Master was in the best of
humor, and made us laugh through din-
ner. When he chose he could be one
of the most entertaining of mortals,
but he was often quite the reverse. His
family were accustomed to his oddities,
and his pupils were obliged to bear
them.

In the afternoon Mr. Parker Chase's
daughter Sukey, from the main road,
came in. As Aunt Hannah and I took
leave, Miss Chase asked me to carry an
invitation to our neighbor, Nabby Hale,
to join a party, across the river, huckle-
berrying the next week. Miss Hale,
who was on the eve of marriage to Mr.
Moses Longfellow, of Byfield, resided
with her grandfather Dole, on a farm
at the southerly end of Crane-neck hill.
The young lady was sewing on her
wedding dress, when I delivered the
message. She said she should visit her
stepfather before her marriage, and if
not too busy would join the excursion-
ists.

On the Saturday afternoon of the fol-
lowing week, Aunt Sarah and I went
into the pasture to pick berries. It
was a hot, sultry day betokening show-
ers. Wandering on into Bradford
woods, unheeding the sky, we were
startled by a terifflc thunder peal ac-
companied by a violent gust of wind.
Hastily turning, we saw that the west
was threateningly black with clouds,
and though only a few scattering drops
reached us, in the direction of the main
road it was raining heavily. The first
fright overj I seized my basket, in or-
der to hasten home as fast as possible,
but Aunt Sarah said there was no cause
for hurry, the shower would not come
our way, it would follow the river.
Without outstripping my companion I

REMINISCENCES

walked fast up the hill. As I neared
the stone wall that divided the pasture
from the house field, to my surprise I
saw mother come from the front door,
and run across the newly mown grass
in the direction of the bars ; I leaped
them and rushed to meet her. Tears
were streaming down her cheeks, and
for a moment her speech failed. Aunt
Sarah hurried forward to hear the terri-
ble news, which had been brought by
Mr. John Peabody, on his way to Mr.
Dole's. The whole of the benring
party, with the exception of Mr. Moses
Chase (Nabby Bale's step-father) , had
been drowned in the Merrimac, by the
overturning of the sail-boat during the
thunder gust, midway the river, as they
were returning to the Newbury shore.
Mr. Chase, on seeing the rising cloud,
had hurried the embarkation of the
company, never dreaming that their
safety would be endangered before they
could cross. His three children, PoUy,
Rebecca and Joshua, Nabby Hale,
Mercy Pillsbmy, Sarah and Mehitable
Brown, and Mr. Edmund Kendrick
were drowned. Sukey Chase had a
singular premonition during the morn-
ing, which, as the time for sailing ap-
proached, increased to such a degree
that, under the plea of headache, she
remained at home. My father and
Aunt Sarah hastened to Mr. Dole's.
The eight bodies were soon drawn from
the water, and the remains of the lovely
granddaughter were, towards evening,
borne to the bereaved home. "Words
are inadequate to depict the scene !
The stricken family and youthful lover
were for a time wholly overcome. It
was arranged that the seven from the
main road should be interred from the
meeting-house on the morrow, where
Parson Dutch had been engaged to

officiate ; but, as Mr. and Mrs. Dole
were aged and infirm, and it would be
more convenient for the Hales, Long-
fellows, and other Byfield relatives and
friends, it was decided that Miss Hale
should be buried from her grandfath-
er's house. Father mounted his horse
and rode to East Haverhill, to procure
the services of the Rev. Mr. Adams,
the pastor of the church, for the funeral
rites. Until a late hour our house was
filled with a sorrow-stricken throng,
going and coming from Mr. Dole's.
The following day father and Aunt Sa-
rah devoted to the bereaved family, and
we all attended the funeral in the after-
noon.

The obsequies in the church were sol-
emnly impressive. The seven coffins
were placed in the broad aisle, where,
amid the sobs and moans, Parson Dutch
his own voice often broken spoke
words befitting the occasion. Then the
seven corpses were borne on the shoul-
ers of their friends, a mournful file, fol-
lowed by a long procession, an immense
throng not only our own people, but
from other towns, to the burial place
lay the river side. Slowly, with uncov-
ered heads, in impressive silence, their
burdens were deposited in the seven
open graves. Dust was committed to
dust, with that hope in a blessed im-
mortality, which is the only source of
faith, upbearing the anguish of such
an hour. Lingeringly, with many
tears, the crowd dispersed, and the
dead were left on the picturesque hill-
side, where the western sun would lov-
ingty linger and the soft breezes play
over the grassy mounds, while the river
rippled be}*ond, and the shadows chased
each other over field, woodland and
swelling hills , and the smoke curled above
peaceful homesteads dotting the wide-

OF A

spread landscape. Miss Hale's body
also rested in a lovely spot ; a small,
rural graveyard at the foot of Crane-
neck Hill ; a pleasant, secluded " God's
Acre," where the song-birds attune
their sweetest melody, and the violets
bloom the earliest and grow the larg-
est.

The Sunday following was most mem-
orable to all. Dr. Toppan came early in
the week to sympathize with and con-
sole his afflicted friends, and former
parishioners. The meeting-house was
crowded, and when the long list of fu-
neral notes, requesting prayers were
read, there was not a dry eye in the
assembly. Dr. Toppan preached an
extremely appropriate and impressive
sermon. Child though I was, the whole
scene rises distinctl}' in my memory.
Mrs. Hendrick, in her widow's hood
and scarf, with her two little fatherless
girls, satin the next pew, and the oth-
er numerous mourners in their sable
garb heightened the awe and sadness
of the scene.

CHAPTER VIII.

The summer that I attained my
ninth year aunt Bets}' celebrated her
nuptials. Preparations therefor pro-
ceeded for some months, and the skill I
had acquired in marking and embroid-
ery called my services into requisition.

My grandfather's family presented a
perfect type of an orderly Puritan house-
hold. A clergyman's daughter, Grand-
mother Little gave an air of refinement
and decorum to her small realm, seldom
seen in a farmer's or mechanic's domi-
cile.

Judith, the fourth daughter, had, two
years previous, married Mr. Amos Chase,
whose residence at this time was in Ha-
verhill. This gentleman descended
from Aquila Chase, a mariner from
Cornwall, England, who came first to
Hampton in 1610, thence to Newbury
in 1646. He married Ann Wheeler of
Hampton. This pair had eleven chil-
dren, five sons and six daughters. From
these sprung a numerous progeny. A-
mos, son of Samuel and Sarah (Stuart)
Chase, was born in the brick house on
the main road nearly opposite that lead-
ing to Crane-neck hill, where he resi-
ded when first married. A short time
previous to Aunt Betsey's wedding, he
purchased a farm in Haverhill, about
half a mile below Haverhill bridge. In
addition to the cultivation of his land,
he was largely engaged in the manufac-
ture of shoes.

The Chase arms are :

GULES TOUR CROSSES PATENCE ARGENT,
ON A CANTON AZURE A LION PAS-
SANT OR, CREST A LION RAMPANT
OR, HOLDING IN ITS PAWS A
CROSS PATENCE ARGENT.

At my grandfather Little's, three
daughters, Betsy, Sukey and Hannah,
and the three sons still remained under

REMINISCENCES

the paternal roof ; there were also three
young men, apprentices, learning the
trade of a shoemaker. Grandsir at
that time carried on a brisk business,
as business was reckoned in those days,
in a shop near the dwelling this, and
the care of a good sized farm, kept ev-
ery one bus}-. Family worship and
breakfast over, the ' ' men folks " went
to their labor, and grandmam' and the
girls began the day's routine. The two
youngest girls assisting alternately week
by week in the housework and spinning.
The weaving was usually put out to
some neighboring woman, though some-
times an assistant was hired to weave
at the house for a few weeks. In the
cold weather, the morning work fin-
ished, and the dinner put over the fire
to boil, grandmam', would seat herself
by the window with her basket, and
call me to a stool by her side, where I
industriously stitched through the day,
now and then recreating with a run to
the chamber where my aunt, unless the
weather was very severe, usually spun,
or to the shop or barn with Uncle Joe,
my boy uncle, a great rogue, but my
very best friend and crony. Company
often came of an afternoon, for though
my grandmother seldom visited, she
was "given to hospitality," and the
neighbors, relatives and town's folks
fully appreciated and enjo}"ed the at-
tractions of her house and tea table.

At dark my work was laid aside.
Uncle Joe and I occupied the form in
the chimney corner of an evening,
cracking nuts, parching corn in the
ashes with a crooked stick, roasting
apples and telling stories or riddles,
or playing fox and geese on a board,
chalked for the game, with a red kernel
of com for the fox and yellow for
geese.

At nine o'clock grandsir and the
young men came. Grandsir would seat
himself in his arm-chair, before the fire
to toast his feet, grandmam' lay aside
her knitting and draw her low one to
the corner beside our form. The nuts,
corn and apples were passed round,
and sometimes a mug of flip was made.
After all had become wanned and re-
freshed, the Bible was laid on the
stand, a fresh candle lighted, and the
old gentleman reverently read a chap-
ter, then a lengthy prayer was offered,
through which we all stood with heads
bowed devout!}-, though I am sorry to
say that grandmam's thoughts were
sometimes called to this mundane
sphere, by that incorrigible Joe, and
her low ' ' 'sh " could often be detec-
ted, as she thwarted some mischief, or
prevented some prank, played with the
dire intent of making me laugh. With
the warmer weather Aunt Betsy trans-
ferred our work toher chamber, where
it escaped the espionage of the curious
eyes and gossiping tongues that dur-
ing the winter had at times been ex-
cessively annoying ; but in the long,
bright June afternoons I used to steal
down to the front entry ; seated upon
the sill of the open door, my fingers
kept time to the murmur of the brook
or the song of the birds in the willows
bordering the silvery stream just be-
yond the gravel path, edged by flowers,
the perfume of which, mingling with
that of the lilacs and sweet briar, filled
the air with grateful odor. Grand-
mam' took great pleasure in her flow-
ers. Though sister Xoyes " could not
see how she found time for sich fiddle-
de-dees," and brother John's wife pro-
nounced " sich things all vanity," and
other wise people thought it would be
better to raise something useful, grand-

OF A NONOGENARIAN.

mam' continued to cultivate her garden
to the end of her long life. Her
crocuses, tulips and other spring
flowers were a rare show ; there were
a splendid collection of pinks and roses,
and a great array of autumnal flowers.
Hollyhocks of every variety, French,
velvet and double marigolds, asters of
all shades, double coxcomb, and a bed
of crimson, purple and yellow amar-
anths. One of my first recollections
is sitting on the wide, white door stone,
watching the many hued four o' clocks
as their petals unfolded to the after-
noon sun. Another delight was assis-
ting grandmam', in the autumn to ar-
ange in prett}* vases of home construc-
tion the dried amaranths, which mingled
with white-everlasting, milk-weed, bit-
ter-sweet and evergreen, made pretty
winter bouquets, to decorate the man-
tles of the parlor and living room ;
these, with the wreaths of running ever-
green round the mirror and clock, also
elicited criticism. ' ' Sich things did very
well for some folks. If Miss Little had
to delve and drudge like most women,
she would' nt want dried posies and
greens a littering her house, but she
always had contrived to live lady fled,
and with that squad of gals, she could
afford to play quality." These and sim-
ilar speeches often excited the anger of
the "squad of gals" but grandmam',
in her pleasant way would bid them
"never to heed things beneath one's
notice." "Recreation was necessary;
if she chose to amuse herself in
her garden, so long as no duty was ne-
glected, it was no one's concern. As
for use she considered flowers of great
value. The Almighty had decked the
whole universe with beauty. Who was
not made happier and better by pretty
surroundings ? For her part she con-

sidered it every woman's duty to make
her home as agreeable as possible.
She was sure her good sisters-in-law
and the other croakers enjoyed a bunch
of pinks or a rose, as much as any
one, and her mints and sweet herbs
were in great demand, especially lav-
ender, to strew in drawers amongst
linen."

Sunday was the only day on which I
preferred to be at home. Father was
somewhat of a latitudinarian, and moth-
er never prohibited my picture books.
Of these my town friends and an old
lame peddler, named Urin who came
round five or six times a year, kept me
well supplied. Old Urin was quite a
character. He would stump in, usually
near dusk, with a bag and basket, and
sinking into the nearest chair, declare
himself ' ' e'en a' most dead, he was so
lame ! " Then, without stopping to take
breath, he would reel off, "Tree fell on
me when I was a boy, killed my broth-
er and me jest like him, here's books,
pins, needles, black sewing silk ah 1 col-
ors, tapes, varses, almanacks and sar-
mons, thread, fine thread for cambric
ruffles, here's varses on the pirate that
was hung on Boston Common, solemn
varses with a border of coffins atop,
and Noble's sarmon preached at his
wife's funeral, the ' lection sarmon when
the guv'ner took the chair, Jack the Pi-
per, Whittington's Cat, Pilgrim's Prog-
ress, Bank of Faith, The History of
the Devil, and a great many other re-
ligious books." "We always kept the
old man over night besides purchasing
his wares. As I had an eager avidi-
ty for books, the peddler's advent was
hailed with delight.

At grandsir's the Lord's day was
kept m Sabbatical strictness. Every
vestige of the week's employment dis-

KEMENTSCElSrCES

appeared at sundown Saturday night,
no book was permitted save the Bible,
some pious treatise and the catechism.
Pleasant da3*s, when meeting was at-
tended morning and afternoon, the day
was not so tedious, but stornry ones
were seeminghy interminable. Then
that catechism ! Though I was quick
to learn, this was my one great bug-
bear. How I used to dread the cate-
chising Grandsir instituted after supper.
Sunday evenings, Uncle Joe and I were
alwaj's falling into disgrace by our dull-
ness, aand unt Hannah frequently could
sympathze with us. Then we often un-
wittingly broke the rules in such a way as
to receive a reprimand. Never shall I
forget the shame of one memorable Sun-
day afternoon. It was very muddy ri-
ding in the spring, and as it was incon-
venient to take us along, Aunt Hannah,
Uncle Joe and myself were left at home.
We had studied the catechism, read the
history of Joseph from the Bible, and
played with the cat and kittens tih 1 we
were tired. Aunt Hannah went into
the cellar for apples ; there she found
some rotten warden pears which she
brought above and placed in the sink.
Uncle Joe took his jack-knife and
scraped out the pulp from one. "Look
here," he cried, "see my pail, look at
my pail!" "It needs a bail," Aunt
Hannah returned, as she brought some
strong, blue 3 T arn and proceeded to tie
it in. Joe scraped another, Aunt Han-
nah tied in a second bail. Knowing I
ought not to pla}', I only looked on, an
interested spectator. The spring sun
was sliming brightly in at the open back
door, the well curb was near with a
trough for watering the horses and cat-
tle. Joe took his pails out to the plat-
form, Aunt Hannah and I followed.
We were so intent seeing the little boy

fill his novel pails, that we forgot to
watch for the close of services as we had
intended, and were all caught in the
awful crime of playing on "Sabba'
day." Such a chastisement as we re-
ceived ! Thereafter I never staid over
Sunda}^ at grandsir's if it could be
otherwise, and when I did stay, for years
I scarcely dared to breathe.

The wedding had been appointed for
the last of June. Aunt Sarah, and a fa-
mous cook, lent her assistance in ba-
king the cake. Mother cut the bridal
dress, a light slate silk gown and skirt,
the gown was festooned at the bottom,
the neck and the sleeves trimmed with
lace. The bridal hat, a French beaver
to match, was ornamented with two
long, white ostrich plumes. Aunt Su-
key and Aunt Hannah had new white
muslins, cut square in the neck, and short
sleeves ; the breadths run the whole
length, plaited at the back, and con-
fined at the waist by a ribbon sash.
Grandmam's best silk, a blue and red
changeable, was newly trimmed, a tas-
ty muslin cap constructed, and her bri-
dal lawn half-handkerchief, richly bor-
dered with broad, thread lace, which
never saw the light excepting on high,
gala occasions, and sacrament Sundays,
was carefully done up.

The important day arrived. The
house was swept and garnished, the
parlor decorated with white and dam-
ask roses. I wore a white muslin, and
a blue sash, like Aunt Hannah's . Moth-
er looked beautifully in a white petti-
coat and brown silk over dress ; Aunt
Chase wore her bridal silk, a reddish
brown ; Uncle Bill and his affianced,
Miss jSarah Bailey, were groomsman
and bridesmaid, Miss Bailey, a very
handsome girl, looked lovely in a peach
silk. As we were without a minister,

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

the Rev. True Kimball from the lower
parish, performed the ceremony. The
wine and cake passed, a merry time
was enjoyed.

The Bartletts, with whom the Em-
erys, Johnsons and Littles have inter-
married, are of a family both "Ancient
and Honorable." Adam do Bartelot,
a Norman knight, accompanied Wil-
liam the Conqueror to England. After
the conquest William granted him a
large landed estate in Stopham, Sussex
Co. Sir Adam de Bartelot died in
1100. He was the progenitor of the
Newbury Bartletts. The original grant
made by William the Conqueror, with
large additions, is still retained by the
Bartelots of Stopham. The present
representative of the family is Sir Wal-
ter Bartelot, Baronet, and member of
parliament. John and Richard Bar-
tlett, who came to Newbuiy in the year
1634, were of the Stopham family, be-
ing sons of Edmund Bartelot, third
son of William, the then heir to the es-
tate. Another brother, Ensign Thom-
as Bartlett, accompanied John and
Richard to America ; he settled in Wa-
tertown. Josiah Bartlett purchased a
farm in the "West Precinct" Newbury,
his son, Josiah, married Prudence Ord-
way, and succeeded v his father on the
estate, and, for those days, he carried
on a very extensive shoe trade, always
employing a half dozen or more ap-
prentices. These youth, for j-ears, bore
the designation of " Bartlett V bo} r s,
and a merry set they usually were, up
to all kinds of pranks ; if any tricks
were played, all eyes were instantly
turned on "Bartlett's boys." The
children of Josiah aud Prudence Bart-
lett were Josiah, Stephen, Betsey,
Samuel, William, John Emery, Pru-
dence, Polly, and Theodore who died

in infancy. The arms of the Bartlett
familv are :

SABLE: THREE SINISTER FALCONER'S

GLOVES PROPER, BANDED

AND TAPELLED OB.

This without a crest was the family
arms for some centuries. Near the
close of the fifteenth century one of the
present crests, a castle, was granted to
Sir John Bartelot, who, in command of
the Sussex troops, captured the castle
of Fontenoy, in France. In the six-
teenth century a swan was added to the
crest, to commemorate the right of
the family to keep swans on the river
Arun, a right granted by William the
Conqueror. These were confirmed
under the seal of William Segar, Gar-
ter King of Arms, October 27, 1616,
14th year of King James, motto "Ma-
ture." The bridegroom, Stephen Bar-
tlett, had been in business in Newbury-
port nearly two years. The year pre-
vious Mr. John Peabody had moved
thither, with Mr. Luther Waterman,
the two gentlemen had formed a part-
nership, known as the firm of "Pea-
body, Waterman & Co." Their place
of business was a store on the corner
of State street and Market Square,
running back to Inn street. The front
store on State street was devoted to dry

REMINISCENCES

goods, the back, entrance on Inn street,
had a full supply of groceries, and
boots and shoes, the latter being manu-
factured in the chambers. Stephen
Bartlett had purchased the house on
State, lower corner of Temple street,
and the wedded pair went immediately
to housekeeping. As was natural the
bride found herself intolerably lonesome
in her new home, and a pressing invita-
tation came, that I should pay her a
visit. Mother packed my things in her
little red, wooden trunk, and I accom-
panied father the next market day.

I vividly remember the ride down
High street, and father's reining in his
steed, that I might gaze at the deer in
the park at Mt. Rural, and at Dexter' s
images. Only a beginning of the show
had then been made, Washington, Ad-
ams and the Goddess of Liberty a-
dorned the front entrance, and the Li-
on and Lamb reclined on either side.

We found Mrs. Bartlett fully estab-
lished, everything in spick and span
freshness. The parlor, now the site of
Mr. Philip H. Blumpey's store, was a
large, pleasant room, the two front win-
dows overlooking State, the two end,
Temple street. It was handsomely fur-
nished, for that period, with a mahoga-
ny desk and book-case, two mahognay
card tables, and alight-stand to match ;
a large mirror occupied the front pier,
two pictures, a marine view, and a
landscape ornamented the wall. There
were half a dozen dark green, wooden
chairs, and two rockers to match. A
Franklin stove had been set in the fire-
place, in which glittered a highly pol-
ished brass fire-set. There was no car-
pet, floors had not then become gener-
ally covered, and, if carpeted in the
winter, they were usually bare in sum-
mer, carpets being considered hot and

dusty. The best chamber was elegant
with gay patch hangings to the high
square post bedstead, and curtains of
the same draped the windows. A toi-
let table tastily covered with white mus-
lin, and ornamented b}" blue ribbon
bows, stood between the front windows.
The case of drawers was handsomely
carved, the chairs matched those below,
and there was a novelty, the first wash-
stand I ever saw, a pretty triangular
one of mahogany, a light graceful pat-
tern to fit into a corner of a room. The
other chambers, the kitchen, wash
room, etc., were in perfect order, and
supplied with every convenience. Sev-
eral newly invented improvements for
housekeeping were displayed, amongst
which was a tin rooster. Heretofore
our meat and poultry had been baked
in the brick oven, or roasted on a spit,
resting on brackets, fastened for that
purpose to the high, iron andirons,
common to every kitchen. Sometimes
a turkey or goose was depended before
the fire by a strong string hitched to a
nail in the ceiling. At the "Wolfe
tavern," and at the residences of some
of the wealthier citizens, a jack turned
by clock work had been placed in the
wide fire-place of the spacious kitchen.
This new "tin kitchen," Aunt Betsey
displayed as a rare implement of great
value to the culinary art.

After dinner a visit to my aunt Pea-
body was proposed. I hesitated, and
informed my aunt that mother had di-
rected that I should not go anywhere
until she had procured me a new bon-
net. My aunt laughed, and replied,
that she "thought sister Prudy did not
expect to have town style like her sis-
ters'. Do not look so sober, little
sweet, I knew head-gear was needed,
and here it is," she added, taking from

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

a closet a white muslin Quaker-shaped
bonnet trimmed with green. Of course
I was delighted, and my happiness was
enhanced by the information that it
was just like my cousin Sophronia's,
and hers, of course, was in the tip-top
of fashion.

Uncle Peabody had bought a house
on Middle street. It was smaller and
less pleasant than my aunt Bartlett's,
but the furniture was similar. The
curtains were white with netted fringe,
and the parlor table was decorated
with an elegant gilt China tea set in a
red. and gilt tray. Aunt Betsey wished
to embroider cushions for her rockers.
Miss Betty Bradstreet was celebrated
for designing patterns for such work.
Aunt Peabody, learning our intention
of calling upon her, summoned So-
phronia from school, and with her little
daughter accompanied us.

Humphrey Bradstreet, an elder
brother, or kinsman, of Gov. Simon
Bi'adstreet, came from Ipswich, Eng-
land, to Ipswich, America, in the
"Elizabeth," in 1634, aged 40, with
his wife Bridget, aged 30, and chil-
dren Hannah, aged 9, John, 3, Mar-
tha, 2, and Mary, 1 ; had born here
Moses, Sarah and Rebecca ; was made
freeman May 6th, 1635 ; representa-
tive to General Court in 1635 ; died in
1656.

Humphrey, Rowle}", physician, son
of Moses, removed to Newbury ; there,
by wife Sarah, had Dorothy, born Dec.
19th, 1692 ; Joshua, Feb. 24th, 1695 ;
Sarah, Jan. 16th, 1697; Humphrey,
1700, died 3"oung ; Daniel, Feb. 13th,
1702 ; Moses, Feb. 17th, 1707 ; and Bet-
ty, May 16th, 1713. Dr. Bradstreet
died May 1 1 th , 1717. His widow , June

9th, 1719, married Edward Sargent.
Arms, Bradstreet :

OERRONNY OF BIX OUI-ES AND OR, ON EACH

A CRESCENT COUNTEKCHANOED. CREST

A UNICORN'S IIKAD HETWEEN TWO

BUNCHES OF LAUREL IN ARLE.

This is the ancient coat. The arms on
the seal of Gov. Simeon Bradstreet,
born atKobling, county Lincoln, 1703,
where his father Simeon was the minis-
ter are :

ON A FESSE THREE CRESCENTS IN BASE
A HOUND PASSENT. CREST A DEXTER
ARM VAMBRACEI) EMBOWERED, THE
HAND GRASPING A SWORD.

Anne Dudley Bradstreet, Gov. Brad-
street's first wife, was the first "Ameri-
can female Poet," st} r led the tenth muse.
Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet built the
second house erected at the water side.
It is on Water, upper corner of Lime
street, at present a store. His young-
est daughter, Betty, married the Rev.
William Johnson, and his youngest
son, Moses, married, and inherited the
paternal mansion. Four out of five of
Mr. Moses Bradstreet's children, died
within one week from the terrible
throat distemper which, in the winter of
1735, despoiled so many households in
Massachusetts and New Hampshire.
Betty, her aunt Johnson's namesake,

REMINISCENCES

alone recovered ; but vestiges of the
fell disease were carried through a long
life in impaired beauty and a weakened
constitution. Mr. Bradstreet died in
a few j-ears, and Mrs. Bradstreet, up-
on the death of her children, was
thrown into an illness which weakened
her mind ; though she lived until Miss
Betty was well advanced in age, she
oould never be brought to regard her
daughter as other than a little girl.
I have been told how touching it was
to see the mother leading the grown
woman up the aisle of the meeting-
house as if she was still a child. Miss
Bradstreet had numerous suitors, but
till her mother's death her life was de-
voted to her ; afterwards she declared
herself too old for matrimony, and
in compan}- with her faithful serv-
ing maiden, Hannah Brown, she
lived a happy, useful and contented
life, in the ancestral mansion, an open
house to her relatives and friends, while
the}* in turn were often enlivened by a
visit from the spinster cousin, whose
advent was the signal for a genuine
festival throughout the household and
neighborhood. To children in particu-
lar Miss Betty constituted herself a sort
of patron saint, receiving in return a
love and devotion never to be forgotten.
The Bradstreet mansion had been a pre-
tentious house at the period of its erec-
tion, and with its extensive and well
kept garden was then a model of neat-
ness and elegance^ The windows com-
manded as exquisite a view as can be
found. The beautiful Merrimac broad-
ening to its mouth, Plum Island river
pouring in its tributary waters on the
right, opposite the picturesque Salis-
bury shore, terminating in its long, san-
dy point, the narrow outlet at the bar
separating it from the twin point at

Plum Island, whose length of sands,
marshes and bushy knolls extended in-
to the distance. The two light-houses
on its northern extremity gleamed
in the afternoon sun, which eradiated
the lofty warehouses on the wharves,
the wherries, fishing smacks and West
India schooners, in the river, and the
sails of vessels near and more remote,
dotting the waves of Massachusetts
Ba}-, whose blue waters stretched afar,
its hues mingling with those of the ho-
rizon.

Miss Betty, a tall, prim, rather plain
woman of sixty, received us with great
cordialit}*. Her parlor, rich in antique
furnishings, if it could be restored,
would now become a perfect bijou for
an antiquarian. Dark, highly polished
tables with claw feet, and high backed,
elaborately carved chairs to match ; a
tall, handsomely ornamented clock
ticked in one corner ; an elegantly em-
broidered fire-screen, with mahogany
frame, that could be raised or lowered
at pleasure, stood opposite. A large
mahogany -framed mirror occupied the
space between the front windows ; over
the mantel, which was decorated witli
tall brass candlesticks, hung the por-
trait of Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet, in
a red coat, buff vest, white wig, ruf-
fled shirt, and delicate ruffles at the
wrist, the right hand grasping a lancet.
-The walls were further ornamented by
paintings and embroidered pictures,
specimens of the taste and skill of the
mistress of the house. The screen,
the wrought seats of the chairs, and
various other knick-knacks scattered
about the room, were also the handi-
work of the ingenious and industrious
maiden.

Our hostess invited us into the gar-
den, which was gay with a profusion of

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

old-fashioned flowers, besides fruit and
vegetables. Each having been sup-
plied with a "bunch of posies," we
took our leave. A pressing invitation
"to stay to tea," had been givhn, but
Uncle Bartlett was to join his wife and
myself at Uncle Peabody's, so the visit
was postponed until the cushion covers
were drawn.

As we returned, my aunts spoke of
the terrible distemper, that brought
such sorrow to the Bradstreet mansion,
as well as to so many other New Eng-
land homes. Aunt Peabody inauired
' ' if Aunt Bartlett had ever heard of
the warning given to Mrs. Stephen
Jaques prior to her grand-children's de-
cease?" Aunt Betse} r answered in the
negative, and inquired what it was.
"Mrs. Jaques went to a chamber, the
door of which was locked, to get some
candles that were in a bushel measure
under the bed. She took out the can-
dles, laid them on the bed, and pushed
the measure back ; as she lifted the quilt,
she saw a child's hand and an arm cov-
ered witha striped sleeve. She pulled
down the bed clothes, and searched the
chamber, but no child was there. In a
few days her son's children were taken
with the throat distemper. OnThursday ,
just a fortnight from the time she saw the
apparition, Stephen's son, Henry, died ;
the next Thursday, Ebenezer died, and
the next Monday his oldest son Stephen,
died. "I do not know what to think
of such things," Aunt Betsey thought-
fully returned, "you often hear of oc-
currences that are termed supernatural
in times of sickness and distress." I
did not know what to think of the sto-
ry, either. On whispering an inquiry
to my cousin, she exclaimed, "Ugh!
Don't talk of it, I beg ! I shall lie a-
wake all night. " I said no more, but

the story haunted my imagination. As
soon as I shut my eyes of a night, that
tiny hand and striped sleeve would pre-
sent itself, and every time I lifted a
quilt it protruded from beneath. I can-
not say that I was afraid, but it was a
long while ere I lost the vision.

Aunt Peabody told Sophronia she
and I might go to the store, and hurry
her father and uncle home. I had nev-
er visited an establishment of the kind,
and I doubt, now, if even Stewart's would
appear more spacious and elegant. So-
phronia went behind the counter and
measuring off two yards of pink satin
ribbon, presented me with half of it ;
I demurred as to the propriety of
this proceeding. Mr. Waterman,
who was in the front store, told
me to take the ribbon, but I was not
satisfied until I had informed my uncle
Peabocby, whom I found in the back
store. He said "Yes, Fronie and I
were welcome to the ribbon ; I am glad
to see my little girl generous to her
friends." After regaling us on raisins,
he led the way back to the front divi-
sion, and taking down a box of spangled
gauze fans, he bade us each choose one.
Sophronia took a buff ornamented in
silver. I chose blue and gold. Uncle
Bartlett came from the shoe manufac-
tory, and invited us up stairs, where he
fitted both with a pair of purple kid
slippers. Very happy and grateful, we
accompanied the gentlemen home to
tea. How vividly they rise in remem-
brance. Gen. Peabody, tall, preposses-
sing, with a noble figure and courtly
bearing, his pleasant face irradiated by
smiles as he familiarly chatted with
"his little girl." Col. Bartlett of a
slighter mould, lithe and active, taci-
turn and grave, excepting on occasions,
when the serious black eye would twin-

REMINISCENCES

kle, as the thin, firmly cut lips gave ut-
terance to some witticism, or droll-
ery, in a mirth-evoking manner wholly
his own.

After supper, Capt. Moses Brown,
whose premises adjoined my uncle's,
came in to invite the family to visit the
ship of war Merrimac, a vessel the
town had built and presented to the
general government. It had been con-
structed in an incredibly short period
of time, and was the great focus of at-
traction to the people of that vicinity.
Capt. Brown was to command the
ship, which, then laj r , nearly ready for
sea, just back of what is now the City
railroad depot.

As there was quite a party of ladies
and gentlemen, Aunt Peabody thought
Sophronia and I had better go another
time. My cousin went to the next
house, and returned accompanied by
a boy and girl, whom she introduced as
my cousins, John and Lydia Kettell.
We seated ourselves upon the front
door step for a while, then my cousin
proposed a run over to the meeting-
house. It was a warm, moonlight eve-
ning ; what is now Market square was
soon reached. A large, unpainted
building, its heaven-pointing spire,
white in the moonbeams rose before us.
This, the third Church of Newbury and
the first of Xewlmryport, stood where
the city pump is now located. Having
run about the meeting-house for awhile,
we mounted the steps, and sat down to
enjoy the evening and the moonlight,
talking the meanwhile as children talk.

The next day Uncle PeabocVv took
us to see the ship, and Maiy Smith, a
connexion of my uncle's, who resided
in his family, invited us to accompany
her, in the afternoon, to visit a famous
new house then in process of erection

on the ridge on High street. Its build-
er was a Major Shaw. This gentleman
failed, and moved from the place ere
the edifice was completed. It was pur-
chased and finished, after a while, b}"
Captain Elias Hunt. The following
morning I went to school with my
cousin. She attended a private school
kept by "Mann Emerson," a very good,
stout old lad}-, who taught reading,
spelling, the catechism and plain sew-
ing to a flock of the neighboring little
ones. In the afternoon Aunt Bartlett
took me to call on my father's uncle,
Mr. Tlichard Smith, and at the resi-
dences of the two brothers of my grand-
mother Little, Mr. Daniel and Mr. Brad-
street Johnson ; she also called on her
cousins, Coombs and Wheelwright. On
Saturday I returned home, having en-
joyed a most pleasant week. Every-
where I had been welcomed and petted,
and I took back an enlargement of
ideas, that greatly edified and amused
the family, with an enhancement of im-
portance in the eyes of my country
mati-.s. which produced a deference due
to one cognizant of town elegance and
polish.

A short time after this visit the yel-
low fever, brought from the West In-
dies, broke out in Xewburyport. From
the first few cases it rapidly grew to an
appalling epidemic ; over fort}' persons
died from the disease, amongst them,
Doctor Swett, one of the first physi-
cians. Fear and consternation seized
the population. Few from abroad ven-
tured into the place, which, as the fever
increased, became completely panic-
stricken. Many hurried away ; others
shut themselves in their houses. Busi-
ness and pleasure were alike suspend-
ed. A pall seemed stretched over the
summer sk}-, and death appeared borne

OP A NONAGENARIAN.

upon its soft breezes. Ropes were
drawn across Water and other streets,
barring off' the infected district. It
was difficult to obtain attendants for
the sick ; and the dead, without funeral
rites, in tarred sheets and pine coffins,
were, at midnight, carried to the grave
in a rude vehicle constructed for the
purpose of rough boards. Thus, un-
shrined, unknelled, in all haste, the
corpse was covered from sight, and a
new mound, that for a time every
one would shun, rose on the old bury-
ing hill.

When the fever lirst appeared, before
its presence was really known, ni}' un-
cle Peabocty's family received a fright,
which happily brought no evil conse-
quences. The eldest daughter, when
returning from school, was informed,
by a little acquaintance, that a dead
man lay in the house they were passing.
"Come in and look at him, " she said
to Sophronia, "he looks real funny.
He is just as yellow as saffron." The
corpse was laid out ready for burial, in
one of the front rooms. The front
door was open, and people were passing
in and out. Childlike, Fronie peeped
in, then tiptoed forward. Sure enough,
the dead man's face was of a deep yel-
low. At dinner she mentioned the in-
cident, inquiring what could have made
the corpse so yellow. Her mother
could not imagine, but my uncle, who
had heard a rumor that there had been
cases of yellow fever in the place, too
truly divined the matter. Even- pre-
caution was instantly taken ; Fronie
was kept from school, but none of our
relatives took the fever. Aunt Bartlett
was suddenly and violently seized with
a bilious attack, to which she was sub-
ject. The family were alarmed, and
Grandmother Little was summoned,

3iit she was quickly relieved. The
neighborhood was greatly frightened,
and the morning after grandmam's ar-
rival ,what was her horror, as she drew
aside the curtain in the early dawn, to
descry the dread dead-cart drawn up
before the back door, awaiting what
was supposed to be another victim to
the pestilence. She lost no time in
sending it away, but it was hours be-
fore she recovered from the shock the
fell sight had given, and I never heard
her recount the incident without a shud-
der. Frost subdued the plague. The
fever entirely vanished, and the "Port"
gradually resumed its wonted life and
appearance.

CHAPTER X.

The following spring I was prostrat-
ed by an illness, the vestiges of which
have remained through a long life. My
head began to ache, Fridaj', in school.
Master Stephen Longfellow was the
teacher. Contrary to my inclination
he sent me home. Mother administered
camphor, I retired earl}', and the next
morning thought myself well enough to
attend school. I loved study, and it
was a disappointment to lose a session.
Though not feeling strong, I managed
to go through the morning creditably.
It was the latter part of March ; the
road was sloppy, the walking tiresome.
Just as I reached the lane leading to
the house, I was seized with a terrible
pain in my right knee. Unable to walk
another step, I sank upon a stone by
the roadside. My little brother, who
was my companion, much frightened,
ran for mother ; she and Aunt Sarah

REMINISCENCES

bore me home. Mother bathed the
limb, and I was kept warm and dosed
for a cold. The next morning, I was
so comfortable, it was not deemed
necessary that mother should remain
from meeting, and I was left with my
brother. A short tune after the others
had gone, Jim ran in, with the informa-
tion that the pigs were out of the pen.
"They are rooting all over the garden,
SaUie. What shall I do? I can't get
them back into the pen alone. The}-
will spoil the garden ; they have rooted
up one bunch of daffies a'tfeady." Look-
ing from the window, I saw that the
little boy was right. The porkers were
making sad havoc. I hesitated about
venturing forth, but at length decided
to go. Putting on my thick boots and
wrapping myself up, we sallied forth,
and, after a while, managed to get the
obstinate animals penned. I was much
exhausted by the effort, and when the
family came back the}" found me in a
raging fever, stiff, and in pain. Doctor
Poore was brought. The worthy doc-
tor examined the case, took a long
pinch of snuff, and then pronounced it
rheumatic fever. Blisters were applied,
and the usual remedies given, but I suf-
fered fearfully. It was three or four
weeks ere I could move, and as many
more before I could sit up or step.
Months passed, and still I remained an
invalid. Autumn brought somewhat
of the old vigor, but I was obliged to
be very careful, and could bear no fa-
tigue nor exposure for a long time.
Relatives and friends were most kind
in their ministration during this sick-
ness, and at my convalescence even-
means was used for solace and amuse-
ment. It was a perfect boon to be able
to read and sew. Pilgrim's Progress
and The Arabian Nights were abso-

devoured. Opportunely, Miss
Betty Bradstreet paid one of her much
prized visits. She devised many sourc-
es of relaxation from the dullness of a
sick-room. I still have an embroidered
pocket, the pattern of which she de-
signed and drew.

Mother was always hurried, and, as
I grew stronger, I felt it a duty to as-
sist her ; but after I had sewed nry
seam or knit my stint, I would steal up
to Aunt Sarah's chamber, to read, or
work upon the border of a skirt which
Aunt Sarah, who had a universal gen-
ius, had drawn : a lovely vine of roses
and leaves. I feared mother would
consider this too much of a tax upon
1113- health, so the work was carried on
surreptitiously for several weeks. At
length it was completed and exhibited
in triumph. The flower garden be-
came a source of gratification, and as
soon as possible I limped over to our
next neighbor's. Mrs. Thurrill was my
mother's aunt, my grandfather Little's
sister, but her youngest son was only
one year my elder ; from infancy we
were playmates. My little brother
used to run, in shouting, " Here's Bill
Thuddle, Sallie ; Bill Thuddle has
come to help you over to his house."
Mother would put on nay things, and
with Bill's and Jim's assistance I would
manage to cross the foot-path through
the mowing lot, and climb the stile in
the stone wall that divided the two
farms. Aunt Thurrill was always " so
glad to see her leetlc gal ; she was get-
ting smart, yes indeed real spry !"
Then the company loaf of pound cake
would be cut and a glass of metheglin
presented. Though- she would tell the
boys to go to the cupboard and get
something to eat, that doughnuts and
apple pie, and sweetened cider and wa-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

ter were good enough for hearty boys,
the urchins never failed to receive a bit
of cake and a sip of the honey wine.
After I had rested I would crawl up to
the spinning room to gossip awhile
with Jenny Wheeler. Aunt kept a
hired girl through the year. In the
summer she helped in the daily and
housework, but her chief employment
was spinning.

Uncle Thurrill kept a large flock of
sheep. In the winter he fatted weth-
ers, which he slaughtered and market-
ed ; the fleeces the maid spun into
yarn which the old gentleman (he was
a weaver by trade) wove into cloth,
which met with a ready sale. After a
hard day's w r ork out of doors, it was no
infrequent thing to hear his loom till
twelve or one o'clock at night. lie
was also abstemious in food, rarely
eating meat. There was usually a loaf
of brown bread, a cut cheese and a
pan of milk in the chimney corner ;
these were his staple viands. Still he
w T as a health}-, strong man, never own-
ing to fatigue. Besides the sheep, he
butchered and sold a large number of
swine. The first families at the "Port"
regularly sought aunt's lard and sausa-
ges ; and uncle's pork was in great de-
mand, lie was also a great orchard-
ist. The best varieties of apple, such
as the "Baldwin" and "Russet,"
were then just becoming known. The
"Baldwin" in that region was then
called the "Hooper," from its having
been introduced by Squire Stephen
Hooper, the owner of an elegant coun-
try seat on the main road. My father
also took great pains to procure the
best fruit for his thrifty, young orchard.
I have spent many hours helping him
graft.

Amongst our near neighbors was a

somewhat unique family. Their name
was Dole and the}- lived at the foot of
the hill. There were three brothers
and four sisters, all unmarried, and, as
is often the case with single people, all
seven were always addressed by the
affectionate appellation of uncle and
aunt. Uncle Amos and David tilled
the paternal acres ; Uncle Moses, a
blacksmith, carried on his trade in a
shop by the roadside, opposite the
dwelling. He boarded with his broth-
ers, paying them the enormous price
of one dollar per week. Aunts Jemi-
ma, Eunice and Judy attended to the
house and dairy, receiving their living,
as in their parents' life-time. Aunt
Susy, an invalid, was cared for and
petted by all. This family, especially
Aunt Judy, had been unusually kind
during my illness, and the}- were solic-
itous that I should take tea with them.
As soon as I was able to walk so far,
Aunt Sarah took me down. The house,
large and commodious, stood a little
back from and end to road ; a path led
up to a door which opened directly into
the kitchen or living room. The front
commanded a pleasant view of Dole's
pond, and a wide stretch of meadow
and forest, the Clark homestead,
peeping through the woods, being the
only house in sight. We were received
with great cordiality, and seated in the
large, cool room to rest. This apart-
ment had the usual huge fire-place,
long dressers, heavy table and flag-
bottomed chairs. After awhile we were
invited into Aunt Susy's room at the
back of the house. The invalid was
scaled in a chair covered by a coverlet,
and the room was hot and oppressive.
I was glad to accompany aunt Judy
when she went out to begin prepara-
tions for tea, which were a source ol

REMINISCENCES

great entertainment. The good woman
moulded a pan of short cake, which
she rolled out and placed on six pewter
plates ; placing the long iron oven shov-
el across the andirons, the six plates
were deposited before the fire. I dis-
tinctly recollect the interest I felt in
watching the bannocks ; seeing Aunt
Judy turn them, and, when done, split
and butter them. They were very light
and nice, and eaten with stewed straw-
berries they tasted deliciously. The
three uncles came in to tea ; uncle
said a length}- grace, then we all did
justice to the viands. I greatly enjoy-
ed my visit, and on my return made
the household laugh heartily with the
description of aunt Judy's six Johnny
cakes.

That summer our neighbors, the
Pillsburys, put up a new house. It was
raised in June. This brought a festi-
val. A sumptuous entertainment was
provided. Aunt Sarah lent her assist-
ance, and the whole neighborhood were
on the qui vive for several days. On
the afternoon appointed most of the
parish, and visitors from the vicinity,
thronged to the place. The stout tim-
bers of the sturdy roof were reared
with the usual ceremonies, christened
with prime Santa Cruz, then the re-
freshments were spread. Jollity and
sport sped the hours till sun-down,
when the crowd dispersed. Notwith-
standing every precaution I took cold,
and the next morning could not walk
one step. Great was my anguish, but
nursing and care soon brought the use
of my limbs. When I could walk I
was invited to spend the day at great-
uncle John Little's. His farm la}' be-
low, a little farther down the hill. The
house, which commanded a pleasant
view, stood back from the road, a

thrifty orchard extending in front.
The two sons and the only daughter
had been married several years, and
the family consisted of only uncle,
aunt and a hired man. I always en-
joyed a visit to this quiet domicile.
After dinner Ruth laughingly said,
" seeing she had distinguished company
her weaving should be set aside." Put-
ting on her brightly flowered chintz
she took her knitting and called me to
join her in the cosy back parlor. We
had scarcely become seated when her
grandson, David Emery, and his step-
brother, Jeremiah Colman, galloped up
the lane on two mettled studs. Spring-
ing from the saddle the two youth, lads
of twelve and fifteen, entered with the
information that their father, mother
and younger brother were just behind.

Betty Little, at the age of nineteen,
had married David Emery. This
young man, with his brother Ephraim,
left orphans when mere boys, were
heirs to a considerable property. They
were still young when the Revolution-
ary war commenced. At the return of
the "six months men," called out after
the battle of Bunker Hill, another sum-
mons for troops came. The militia
were drawn up on the training field ; a
draft was about to be made, when out
stepped young David Emery and vol-
unteered his services. His example
was instantly followed, and the quota
was obtained without a draft. His
older brother, Ephraim, fired with mili-
tary ardor, also entered the army, in
the capacity of fifer, returning, at the
disbanding of the officers at the end of
the war, with a captain's commission.
He afterwards reentered the army with
the rank of major, and died at an ad-
vanced age, in the enjoyment of a lib-
eral pension. He was one of the found-

OP A

ers of the Society of Cincinnati. His
commissions from the records of that
Society are : ensign in Wiggles worth's,
afterwards C. Smith's, thirteenth regi-
ment in 1777 ; and served in Sullivan's
R. I. company in 1779, commanding
lieutenant and pajTnaster, April 10th,
1779 ; in Tapper's sixth regiment in.
1783.

David was with the army till after the
battle of Brooklyn. His time of ser-
vice having expired, he returned home.
His health, which had never been
good, had become much impaired, and
it was not deemed prudent that he
should again assume the life of a sol-
dier. His marriage with Betty Little
soon followed, but consumption had
marked him for a victim. Ere a year
had sped, and two months prior to the
birth of his son, he passed away, Octo-
ber 21st, 1785, at the early age of twen-
ty-two. Though short, as we count
time, his life was long, in gallant acts
and noble deeds. Few, even of those
whose years number the allotted three
score and ten, could give a better rec-
ord, and his name has been handed
down through the succeeding genera-
tions in affectionate remembrance.

Two years after her husband's death
the widow Emery contracted a second
marriage, with Mr. Moses Colman, of
Byfield. Mr. Colmau, a widower with
one little boy five years old, at the time
of his second marriage, owned and re-
sided on a farm, delightfully located
near Dummer Academy. He also car-
ried on a large butchering business.
For years the market at the Port was
largely supplied from his slaughter-
house. The 3~ear after this second
marriage a third son, Daniel Colman,
was born.

David Emery had passed much of his
childhood at his grandmother Little's.
I had known him from infancy. His
mother and mine, as girls, had been es-
pecially intimate cousins. Her little
son had been my playmate at home and
companion at school. We had often
sat upon the same form and read from
the same book. Our greeting was that
of close friends ; but the fifteen-year-
old Jerry inspired me with much awe.
David took down the old king's-arm
from the brackets where it hung, over
the kitchen fireplace, and, getting the
powder horn and shot bag, told his
grandmother that he was "going into
the pasture to shoot that woodchuck
that was plaguing grandsir ; when
Daniel conies send him along." Call-
ing to Jeriy, who had been stabling
the horses, the two went whistling mer-
rily over the hill. The chaise soon ap-
peared, turning up the lane, and Mr.
and Mrs. Colman, Daniel seated be-
tween them, drove to the door. Mrs.
Colman came in, Daniel ran after his
brothers, and Mr. Colman, turning his
horse, after a moment's chat with Aunt
Little, drove awa} r . He was one of the
overseers of the poor, and had business
to transact in our part of the town.

Mrs. Colman desired to call at my
grandmother Little's, and I accompa-
nied her. After Mr. Colman's return,
David came to take us back in the
chaise. He had killed the woodchuck,
and was in high spirits. We found the
other boys jubilant over the afternoon's
work. They had assisted in unearth-
ing the prey ; and David had also shot
an enormous hen hawk on the wing.
His grandparents, though affectionately
attentive to the other boys, were evi-
dently exceedingly proud of " their

1IEMTN1SCEXCES

boy," and his mother, with sparkling
eyes, said: "He's a chip of the old
block."

Mr. Colman, a stout, handsome, jolly
man, posted me, much to my chagrin
(for I was beginning to assume young
lad}' airs), upon his knee, and, with a
hearty kiss, pronounced me a beauty, a
perfect black- eyed queen, and said that
I should some day be David's little
wife. " Now don't blush and squirm,
my pretty, but expound this riddle :
My wife has two sons, and I have two
sons, and there are onh' three in the
whole." I was as much mystified as a
great many other people I have since
seen at this favorite enigma, which
the old gentleman, to the end of a long
life, never failed to propound to stran-
gers, always ending the explanation
with : ' ' and we mixed 'em all up like
hasty pudding ; never knew any differ-
ence, they are all mine and all hers."
This was true, and no three brothers
could have been more attached to each
other ; and, in after years, Colonel Jer-
emiah Colman was as fond of repeat-
ing the family riddle as his father had
been.

CHARTER XI.

Six years had elapsed ; still our par-
ish was destitute of a pastor. Numer-
ous had been the candidates, but a call
had been extended to only a few.
Amongst these favored ones had been
the Rev. Abraham Moore, and the Rev.
Daniel Dana, but those gentlemen had
accepted other invitations. The fourth
parish, adhering to the teachings of
Parson Johnson and Dr. Toppan, for

several years leaned strongly to the an-
cient faith, but the new and somewhat
popular idea crept into the congrega-
tion, and doctrines began to be promul-
gated and received, which the fathers
would have vehemently denounced . A
young candidate by the name of Clark,
caused a great sensation. Some ac-
cepted his views with enthusiasm, while
others denounced his words as a sacri-
lege to the pulpit, which had been so
abh* filled. I well remember a call
this clergyman made on us. A tall,
pale, light-haired man, with homely
features, and a rigid, austere air, his ap-
pearance was most unprepossessing, es-
pecially to children. I had been a fa-
vorite with Parson Toppan, and unlike
so many children at that day, never
dreamed of feeling awe or fear in the
presence of the minister ; but Mr.
Clark's manner was so restrained and
frigid, there was such an assumption of
sanctit}', that I instinctively drew aside,
and quietl}- stole into my low chair in
the corner of the room, while my little
brother crouched on his stool beside
mother, hiding his head under her apron.
The clergyman seated himself in the
arm chair mother offered, and after
hesitating, hemming and hawing, in-
quired ''if she was the late Parson
Johnson's granddaughter ? " Having
been answered in the affirmative,
with an accession of sanctimony, he
asked, "if she held to his tenets?"
The good woman was too much occu-
pied, with her dairy and her family, to
trouble her head much about doctrines,
but father was a staunch supporter of
the old creed, and somewhat timidly,
but with decided .firmness, she replied,
' ' that she had never seen cause to de-
part from the teachings in which she
had been reared." Our visitor, hummed,

OF A NONAGENAKIAN.

hawed, drew his fingers through his
lank, white hair, then wheeling round
facing my poor, trembling, little self,
he abruptly asked, " Child, where
would you go if you were to die ? " I
could have truthfully told him, I did not
know, but my tongue was palsied, I
quaked all over with terror. In a still
more severe tone he continued, "Child,
do you know the catechism ? " I man-
aged to enunciate, "Yes, sir." " Then
you know that, as a child of Adam, you
were born totally depraved, and unless
you are born again in Christ 3'ou must
be eternalby damned. There are many
little children in hell, yes, children as
young as }"ou, suffering fiery torments."
I do not know what farther he might
have said, for with an hysterical scream
I sprang to my feet, and mother led me
from the room, leaving grandmam, who
was deaf as a post, to do the parting
ceremonies. Father upon learning of
the afternoon's occurrence, was posi-
tively furious, and he neither went him-
self nor permitted any of the family
to attend divine service through Mr.
Clark's ministration. The summer of
1798 the Rev. Leonard Woods came to
preach, and after considerable disagree-
ment and hesitation, a call to the can-
didate was given and accepted, the cer-
emony of ordination being fixed for the
fifth of December. From the first Sun-
day my father had not been exactly
pleased with the new preacher, and as
the weeks passed this distrust and dis-
satisfaction increased. These senti-
ments were shared by a respectable mi-
nority, but with the true democratic
spirit, they gracefully 3'ielded to the will
of the majority, and the preparations
for the ordination were commenced with
the accustomed hospitable bountiful-

ness. A few families, zealous for the
ancient regime, declaring the pastor
elect "a wolf in sheep's clothing, at
heart a true blue Hopkinsiau," de-
clined to open their houses, or take any
part in the festivities or solemnities.
Amongst these were my father, the
Doles and Master Chase. Aunt Ruth
Little was one of Parson Wood's most
enthusiastic supporters. She devoted
a whole evening to the vain task of
bringing my father to a coincidence in
her views. Her rhetoric was complete-
ly wasted, and, quite angry, she re-
turned home, to wonder at "that obsti-
nate Jim Smith. He was a real Jacob-
ite infidel. Prudy was to be pitied ; a
minister's granddarter, too ; it was scan-
dalous ! " Her preparations for the or-
dination were upon the grandest scale.
Mrs. Colman came to assist two or
three days prior to it, and quiet Uncle
John was stirred up into an unusual in-
terest and activity. The best of viands
were procured, the case bottles replen-
ished with choice liquors, and a good
supply of New England rum provided
for the refreshment of the more humble
class of visitors. Grandmother Little
had everything in readiness for the ex-
ercise of due hospitality, but there was
no fuss nor parade. Deacon Tenney, a
dignitary of the church, of course, was
obliged to keep open house. Aunt Sa-
rah went to help her sister. Our house-
hold were habitually in readiness for
company, as, living on the old family
homestead, we were any day liable to
unexpected guests. Our Thanksgiving
mince pies and plum cake were fresh ;
there Avere plenty of pickles, apple-
sauce and preserves ; but mother quiet-
ly baked an oven full of pumpkin and
apple pies and fried a large batch of

REMINISCENCES

company doughnuts, Avhile a nice sir-
loin of beef was as quietly reserved for
the important occasion.

The anticipated fifth of December
arrived, a terribly cold, blustering
daj\ The snow, which had recently
fallen to a considerable depth, filled
the air, blinding both 'man and beast,
and blocking the roads in such a man-
ner that ox teams were kept going to
and fro to keep them passable. Father
did have the grace to break a path
through our lane in the morning, and
mother roasted the beef and baked a
plum pudding, but we had only one
visitor. Mr. Reuben Pearson, of By-
field, managed to wade through the
snow on horseback, but it blew into
the avenue as fast as it was cleared,
and at night it was level with the boun-
dary walls. In the evening David
Emery and William Thurrill came in
on snow-shoes. Uncle Thurrill' s only
daughter married Mr. Jonathan Smith,
of Haverhill. Mr. and Mrs. Smith
and several friends had come to her
father's the night previous upon their
return from the services at noon ;
they found the lane leading to the
house impassable, and were obliged to
sit in the sleigh until a path was clear-
ed. The}' were snow-bound, and com-
pelled to remain over another night.
David Emery gave a graphic descrip-
tion of the ceremonies at the church.
Every one Avas nearly frozen in the icv
building, warmed at that period by
nothing larger than the tin foot-stoves,
with which most of the women were
supplied. The wind whistled and
howled as it swept over the summit of
the lofty hill, rattling the loose win-
dows and screeching amid the stout
rafters of the ancient pile. The lad
had called on Master Chase. That ec-

centric gentleman, having built a tre-
mendous fire in the sitting-room, donn-
ed hat and overcoat, inufliing himself
to the eyes in a huge red bandanna,
and drawing on a pair of striped yarn
mittens, he mounted guard in the en-
try, pacing back and forth in a silence
which was only broken to inform in-
comers, of which, as it was the old
parsonage, and so near the meeting-
house there were mam-, " that the}'
could warm themselves, but nothing
more." David was immensely tickled
with the queer oddity. " Oh, you
ought to have seen him, Mr. Smith, so
grim and glum, but he did pinch my
ear, saying that I was my father's own
son, I must come and see him some
other day." The youth was not just
pleased at the doings at his grand-
father's. " Such a crowd ! The house
had been thronged ; he would not have
entertained such a gang. The horses
had eaten more than half a ton of the
best English hay ; the pantry Avas emp-
ty, the liquor case ditto, and those Dog-
towners had drank a gallon of new
rum, and nobody knew IIOAV much
cider he drew till he wouldn't draw
any more. He thought grandsir had
not enjoyed the day, but grandmam
said we could not sufficiently rejoice
that such a blessed man Avas settled
over us."

As father and others had predicted,
the ordination over, a new order of
things began to be initiated. During
the Avinter it had been customary for
the middle-aged and elderly people to
gather at social teas, after which the
hours were enlivened by a game of
checkers, backgammon or cards ; and
the young people held evening parties,
where the youth and maidens tripped
on ' ' the light fantastic toe " to a tune

OP A NONAGENARIAN.

hummed by themselves, or, if any of
the number chanced to be musical, to
the notes of a fife or flute. Once or
twice in the season a ball, over which
Fiddler Bailey from the "Port" pre-
sided, was held in a hall on the main
road. The new pastor soon announced
his condemnation of this innocent gaie-
ty. A series of sermons was preached
which pretty effectually stopped danc-
ing and card playing ; if either were
enjoyed it was surreptitiously, but, how-
ever on the sly, somehow the malprac-
tice never escaped the minister's knowl-
edge. Fearing "spies from the ene-
mies' camp," other recreations amongst
the younger people were substituted
romping, games and forfeits which
even Parson Woods must have admitted
were no improvement over the decorous
contra dance. The same might have
been queried respecting their ciders,
when, in lieu of their former round
game of cards, their only amusement
became the discussion of politics, and
the scandal of the town and vicinity.
Amongst the pastor's favorites, social
visiting gave place to a course of even-
ing meetings, which were held at the
several school-houses. While many
were enthusiastic in praise of these ser-
vices, they were disapproved by the
opposition and the more elderly people.
The Sabbath ministrations and the
Thursday lecture had hitherto sufficed ;
they had no faith in these new inven-
tions. "More than half went jest to
pass away the time and pick up the
news ; as for the young folks, it was a
nice place to see the gals, and to pick
up a beau ; they guessed there would
be as much courting as godliness."

In the spring another incident caused
greater disagreement. During former
pastorates every child presented for

the rite had been admitted to baptism.
It began to be whispered that Parson
Woods intended to set aside the ' ' half-
way covenant," and baptize only the
offspring of church members. A niece
of aunt Sara No}-es (recently married)
and her husband had come to reside
with and take care of the old lady and
her farm. In March a son was born to
this couple, which Aunt Sara desired
christened. As neither Mr. nor Mrs.
George were communicants, she thought
it proper to ascertain the clergyman's
sentiments. Without hesitation, he
promised to baptize the infant : "It was
too cold to take out such a young babe ;
when the weather grew milder he would
arrange for the ceremony." But Sun-
day after Sunday passed ; the minis-
ter could never be made to appoint a
day for the rite, some excuse was al-
ways ready, till at length it became un-
derstood that thenceforth only church
members would be permitted to present
their children at the baptismal font.
Aunt Sara was excessively indignant !
The great-granddaughter of the Rev.
James Noyes ; the daughter of the for-
mer senior deacon (one next in dignity
to the pastor) , and herself one who at
all times had been most active, not only
in the families of the clergymen, but
throughout the parish, whenever her
services or money could promote the
good of the church, Aunt Sara had
come to be regarded, and I think, also
(though she would have disclaimed my
assertion), to look upon herself some-
what in the light of a lady elect. A
slight to such a person could not remain
unnoticed. Many were really grieved
at this change in the baptismal ordi-
nance ; others were angry at what they
considered duplicity ; many remarked
that it was "the cunning, the ma-

REMINISCENCES

uoeuvering, that excited ire and aver-
sion. The pastor's manner was so ar-
bitrary and domineering that the}" must
regard it as positively insolent. He
ought to be taught that he was not a
pope to head a hierarchy, but simply a
preacher chosen to minister to a con-,
gregational societ}-." Several, refusing
longer to listen to his teaching, left the
society for other parishes ; while some,
Aunt Sara and Master Chase were of
the number, passed the day in private
devotion at home. Sometimes the
Master joined Miss Noyes, to read
aloud a sermon he had written. The
Master was proud of his sermons. In
his vicinhVy dwelt another family, of
bachelors and maids, b} T the name of
Hills two brothers and four sisters.
The good women were fond of inviting
the master in of an evening, to read
a sermon to them. One of these ser-
mons became memorable, causing a deal
of mirth, from the unique text, which
read : "A wonder was seen in heaven,
a woman." Father's dissatisfaction
was so great that he took a pew in the
new church that had recently been built
at B\-field.

A disagreement had arisen in that
society at the settlement of the Rev.
Elijah Parish. The minority separated
from the parent Church, formed a new
society, and put up a house of worship
near where the Depot is now located.
Parson Slade, an Englishman, educated
under the auspices of Lady Hunting-
don, was called to fill the pulpit. Our
family continued to occupy their pew
in the old meeting-house, but I often
rode over to Byfield with my father.
This society consisting of some of
the most prominent -and wealthy fami-
lies, the Moodys, Longfellows, Tit-
combs, Adams, and Pearsons con-

tinued several years. At length the
talent and fame, coupled with the ge-
nial humor of the celebrated Dr. Par-
ish, drew the seceders back to the old
church. Their meeting-house was sold
to Deacon Benjamin Colman, who re-
moved it near his residence and fitted
it up for a school. A female seminary
was established there, which for a num-
ber of years enjoyed an enviable celeb-
rity.

The next October, Parson Woods
was united in marriage with a Miss
Wheeler, a young lady from New
Hampshire, and a parsonage was fur-
nished for the young couple on the
Main road. Several ladies were active
in this service ; Aunt Ruth Little was
foremost amongst them, and she stren-
uously exerted herself to incite mother
and Aunt Sarah to her own enthusiasm.
"Why, the blessed minister ' spake as
never man spake ! ' And it was report-
ed on good authority, that his bride
was every way his equal." Though
mother made no demonstration she
good-naturedly assisted Aunt Ruth in
forwarding some of her favorite plans,
and Aunt Sarah's sendees were enlist-
ed at Deacon Tenney's. It had been
arranged that the officers of the church,
the more prominent members, and the
intimate friends of the clergymen and
their wives, should meet the bridal party
at the Bradford line, and escort them to
their new home, where an entertain-
ment was to be given. This pro-
gramme caused an excessive fluster
amongst the feminine portion of the
community. Our ladies had acquired
a somewhat enviable reputation as
cooks, and much anxiety was evinced
that on this important occasion their
credit should be maintained, no little
rivalry being elicited, in both the quan-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

tit}" and quality of the viands. Dress
also became a momentous matter ; moth-
er, whose skill and taste were unques-
tionable, was fairly besieged b}- mem-
bers of the family, to cut new dresses
or remodel old ones. Deacon Tenney
brought his wife a new silk dress from
Boston, and a fashionable sister select-
ed an elegant hat in Haverhill, that
place having even then acquired a prom-
inence for its style and fashion. Our
good aunt, a modest, retiring woman,
though exceedingly ladylike in manner,
yielded, though much against her wish-
es, to her husband's will in these mat-
ters, and much to his and her daugh-
ter's delight, Madam Tenney was pro-
nounced the handsomest and best
dressed woman in .the cortege. On the
appointed day, about thirty chaises met
at the place of rendezvous, the last
house in the parish, and as the clergy-
man and his bride drove up, after an
hilarious welcome, the cavalcade formed
in line, the three deacons and their
wives in front, and dashed over the
road to the new parsonage, where an
animated throng awaited them. After
the ceremony of introduction to the
young madam was over, the crowd re-
paired to the tables, which were loaded
with every luxury. Mirth and good
cheer ruled the hour, the bridegroom
grew positive!}- gay, and the bride won
every heart by her beauty and urbanity.
After supper, singing was proposed,
there were many good singers in the
company, and when several tunes were
sung, a pra}-er was offered, then fol-;
lowed a parting hymn, and the throng-
dispersed well satisfied with the enter-
tainment. I had been considered too
young to attend the party, but I saw
Madam Woods the next Sunday. She
'' walked out bride " in a green silk

dress, a white satin bonnet, a white sat-
in cardinal, trimmed with white fur, and
a grey fox muff and tippet. She was
a tall, handsome lady, and the regard
she at first inspired, continued through
her sojourn in the parish.

CHAPTER XII.

The farm on which the house was lo-
cated, where our district school had
been kept, belonged to the widow and
minor son of the late Robert Adams.
Mrs. Adams, a sister of my grandfather
Little, had married Mr. Bradstreet Ty-
ler, and moved to Boxford ; her young
son went with her, but on coming of age,
young Robert took possession of the
paternal acres, and notice was given,
that the district must find other accom-
modation for their school. Uncle Thur-
rel had a large back chamber, which,
as nothing better offered, was hired for
the winter. This was an inconvenient
location, on the extreme southerly boun-
dary of the district, too far distant for
the girls on the opposite side to reach
in cold weather. Singularly, it so
chanced that I was the only girl in our
neighborhood though there were quite a
number of bo}'s, and to my discomfit-
ure I found myself alone, the sole girl
amongst a dozen boys. This was so
unpleasant that I was permitted to re-
main from school. The next summer
Miss Emerson, after some trouble, se-
cured an unused comb-maker's shop for
her private school. The winter follow-
ing, Deacon Tenne}*, anxious to secure
educational privileges for his daughters,
offered a rooih. This carried the school
so far away that a second winter, much

REMINISCENCES

to my distress, I was debarred from in-
struction. Father said things were
wrong, something must be done, a
school house ought to be built in a
spot convenient of access. The subject
was brought to public attention and
met with general approval, though there
was some opposition. A school-meet-
ing was called, and it was voted to build
a schoolhouse, as nearly in the centre
of the district as possible. Mr. Oliver
Dole made a survey, and it was deci-
ded to place it on the upper side of
Crane-neck road, at the lower corner of
the intersecting highway to Bradford,
now Groveland, nearly opposite where
the present schoolhouse stands. A
building about fort}' feet long and thir-
t}- broad was erected, finished and fur-
nished in the best approved style of
the period. The entrance at the south-
erly corner faced the cross road. Pas-
sing through an entn-, furnished with
high and low rows of wooden pegs, you
entered the school- room. On the left,
extended the fire-place ; bej'ond stood
the teacher's desk ; in front rose tier
after tier of clumsy, unpainted desks,
front of these, and around the walls
were ranged low forms. Six good
sized windows lighted the apartment.
Two long, narrow rocks supplied the
place of fire-dogs. The dry kindlings
were stored in the entn-, but the green
logs, the chief fuel, lay conveniently near
the door, where it was cut as needed, b}-
the older bo}-s. The new school-house
gave general satisfaction, and was re-
garded as a sumptuous temple of learn-
ing, of which the district was justh*
proud, and the services of Master
Chase were secured for the inaugura-
tion session. Noted for his eccentrici-
ty, great learning and strict discipline,
the master was greeted by his pupils,

on that memorable morning, with an
awe bordering on fear. I had become
used to his oddities, and, though never
before reckoned amongst his pupils,
when visiting at his house I had often
been invited into the library, while his
scholars were under instruction, and
sometimes had participated in the exer-
cises ; so with more confidence than the
others, I took the desk to which I was
assigned. Contrary to the custom,
Master Chase never opened school with
prayer. "The devotion brought more
deviltry than godliness. To prevent
mischief, one must pray with open
03-68, like Master Smith at Dummer
Academy. Let the parents teach
the children to pray at home ; it was
not the province of the school-
teacher." At the commencement of
his career, this idea had been strongly
combatted, but without effect, and his
sway had become so indisputable, that
now no one thought of questioning it.
The school seated, the Bible class was
called to read. Books in hand we
ranged ourselves before the teacher's
desk, when to my astonishment, the
master in a loud, authoritative tone,
said, "Sallie Smith, take the head of
the class, and read the first chapter of
Genesis. The others will open their
books, and pay particular attention to
the reading, especially to the pronunci-
ation and expression." Could I be-
lieve my ears? Could I have heard
aright? I, read alone read the whole
of that long chapter, with all those
scholars, some of them nearly men
grown, listening in silence? I could
never do it ! My inability was signified.
"Bosh!" cried the master, "Sallie,
take your place and read." I had heard
that the teacher's laws were like those
of the Modes and Persians ; to dispute

OP A NONAGENARIAN.

the point was worse than reading, so,
trembling from head to foot, I moved
up the class. Encouraging looks were
given, Uncle Joe Little managed to
whisper, "Don't be scared," and the
presence of Nannie Tenney, next to
whom I found nryself, gave farther re-
assurance, but the first words were
both low and tremulous. "Speak
louder," directed the master, in a won-
derfully polite and gentle tone, "read
as well, Miss Sallie, as you did to your
aunt and myself last autumn." This
remark expounded the riddle. I could
not imagine wiry he thus called upon
me to read. On a recent visit I had
entertained my relatives one stormy
evening, by reading to them from the
"Spectator." Somewhat reassured, I
managed to get through the chapter,
after which the class read it verse by
verse. This finished, we resumed
our seats, and prepared to copy the
first rule from Pike's arithmetic, in a
manuscript book, into which all the
rules and our examples were copied.
The master having pointed the pens,
turned his attention to the younger
scholars, those whose acquirements had
not advanced beyond Webster's spell-
ing book. At half-past ten a recess of
ten minutes was granted, first to the
girls, then to the bo3's. I was thank-
ful to get to the fire, as the sputtering,
sizzling green logs gave forth only a
doubtful heat, and my desk at the up-
per end of the room was intolerably
cold. Spelling followed the recess.
The session closed at twelve with an
intermission of an hour and a half.
Many of the scholars brought their din-
ners. The noon was passed in fun and
frolic by most, though some of the more
studious availed themselves of this
time to con their lessons, and some of

the older boys chopped wood. The
firing was prepared by the boys, who
also took turns in kindling the fire, and
the girls swept the schoolhouse at noon.
The afternoon exercises were opened
by the first class, reading from the
" American Preceptor ;" next the writ-
ing books were ruled and the copies
set. While the older pupils were thus
engaged, the younger scholars again re-
ceived attention. The afternoon recess
over, our spelling books were again
taken out. The master having donned
his overcoat, red bandanna and woolen
mittens, took his big ruler in hand, and
commenced a promenade to and fro be-
tween the desks and the now smoul-
dering fire. The recitation in spelling,
and a second Bible reading closed the
afternoon session. A few of the girls,
myself included, at Miss Emerson's
school had commenced the study of a
grammar, styled " The Young Ladies'
Accidence." As we were anxious to
continue, though out of the common
course, the master graciously acceded
to our wish, though he would not per-
mit his female pupils to cipher in ' ' Frac-
tions." " It was a waste of time, whol-
ly unnecessary, would never be of the
least use to them. If we could count
our beaux and skeins of yarn it was
sufficient." Those that I have named
were the only studies. I was com-
pelled to continue my Bible reading,
and the master continued his stern
sway. The utmost courtesy was en-
joined. He was as exact in the matter
of bows, curtseys and other polite for-
mulas as a French dancing master.
Occasionally, of a stormy day, perhaps,
the grim old fellow would relax for
awhile, and become one of the most ge-
nial and mirth-provoking of mortals.
Having raised an uproarious merriment,
7

KEMINISCENCES

he would suddenly thump silence, with
his formidable ruler, and the usual rou-
tine was resumed. Two or three incor-
rigible dunces received no mere}'. If
shakings and spankings could have
brightened their wits, they must have
become brilliant. Nothing like insub-
ordination ever appeared, but nothing
escaped the lynx eye of the teacher,
and if a scholar was detected in idle-
ness, or misdemeanor, the Bible or any-
thing hand}* was launched at the mis-
creant's head. Mr. Oliver Dole's sec-
ond son, a lad of twelve, was rather
more inclined to indolence, than to eith-
er stud}' or play. He had a trick of
folding his arms upon the desk, and
resting his head upon them, he would
doze away the time given for the prep-
aration of the lessons. One afternoon,
Diali having become thus comfortably
composed, I saw that the master was
poising his long ruler in the direction
of the lad's head ; suddenly it whizzed
across the room ; as it touched him, the
boy gave a quick start, the missile
canted sideways, and passed directly
through a pane of glass in the window
behind. A suppressed titter ran round
the room. Without asking permission
Joseph Little went and brought in the
ruler. As the cold air blew in, I
1 stuffed my hood into the sash. Not a
word was spoken, the exercises pro-
ceeded as usual, but the next morning,
much to our astonishment, the glass
was reset. How the master had pro-
cured a light, and replaced the glass
that cold weather has ever remained
a mystery. Amongst the older boys
was Samuel Thurrel, Uncle Thur-
rel's second son. This lad had a
somewhat pompous air, was rather too
apt to boast of his father's wealth, and
the superiority of all his belongings.

At New Year he had been the recipient
of a silver watch ; as no other scholar
had acquired to such an appendage,
Sam strutted about, to the admiration
of the smaller fry, while he excited the
scorn of his mates. This disgust had
been augmented by the addition of a
long silver chain from which was sus-
pended two heavy silver seals, and an
immense silver key. This show}- orna-
ment was displayed to the greatest ad-
vantage, and pains were taken to jingle
and jangle it, as the young coxcomb
paraded back and forth, between the
recitation and his desk. There had
been an unusual parade one morning,
even the master had shown signs of im-
patience. The afternoon session had
commenced, every scholar but Joe Lit-
tle was seated. There was the hush
which preceded the call to read, when
the door opened, and the tardy pupil
entered, his face the impersonation of
imperturbable gravity, and a long chain,
the curb to a bridle, dangling from his
pocket ; to this chain was attached two
seals cut from sole leather, and an enor-
mous key. With a ludicrous imitation
of Sam, he made his bow, then strode
up the aisle, lifting his foot in such a
manner as to jingle the curb chain at
every step, while the seals and key
swung about most conspicuously. At
sight of the youth, the master's face
gave a spasmodic twitch, then lie was
seized with such a fit of coughing,
that it was some moments ere the ruler
signalled silence, or the general giggle
that ran round the room was sup-
pressed, but at length the summons to
the class came, and though my uncle
continued to strut about, displaying his
new ornament, much to the delight of
the scholars, especially the older girls,
whose merriment was scarcely repressed,

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

he received no reprimand ; no notice
was taken of the joke, though we all
knew that the old fellow was enjoying
it hugely. The next morning, Sam ap-
peared minus his watch, and Uncle Joe
never again displayed his curb chain.
The winter term sped all too soon.
Notwithstanding his oddity, and strict
discipline, Master Chase had the skill
to interest his pupils in their studies,
and, though the course was somewhat
meagre, it was thorough. We really
learned the three studies taught, read-
ing, writing and arithmetic. Few pu-
pils of the present day could surpass
our first class reading, our spelling
matches must have won the palm, and
now we rarely see such penmanship as
was common at that period. Some of
the arithmetical manuscript were ele-
gant specimens of chirography.

CHAPTER XIII.

On December 14th, 1799, the coun-
try was called to mourn the death of
Gen. George Washington. Express-
ions of heartfelt grief were universal.
Every one felt that the nation had suf-
fered an irreparable loss, that the fam-
ily of states was bereft of its head, its
father and truest friend. In Newbury-
port a memorial service was held the
second of January, when business was
suspended, and residents of the coun-
try flocked to the town. While minute
guns reverberated on the wintry air,
bells mournfully pealed, and flags sadly
drooped at half-inast, a long process-
ion bearing the usual insignia of mourn-
ing denied through the principal streets
to the Old South meeting-house, where

an eulogy was pronounced by Robert
Treat Paine. It was a day never to
be forgotten, and the crape badge my
father had worn was treasured for
years as a sacred memento. On the
22d of February, Byfield commemorat-
ed the birth and death of Washington
by tolling the bell of the meeting-house
an hour in the morning, and an ora-
tion, delivered by the Rev. Eh'jah Par-
ish. People from Newburyport and
the whole country side thronged the
house, drawn thither by the reputation
for eloquence which the orator had ac-
quired.

Uncle Samuel Smith had prospered
on his Vermont farm. Good buildings
had been erected and most of the laud
cleared and brought under cultivation.
His wife's prophec}' had been fulfilled.
His pleasing address and varied knowl-
edge, enlarged by more studious habits
than was usual to a person in his posi-
tion, had given him a high place in the
estimation of his neighbors and towns-
folk, and he had been called to fill sit-
uations of trust and honor, both in
town and county. He usually visited
his native place every winter, bringing
a sleigh-load of country produce, which
was exchanged for dry goods and gro-
ceries.

At the end of a bright February af-
ternoon we espied Uncle Sam's team
wearily dragging the heavily laden
sleigh up the lane, and mother began
preparations for an extra nice supper,
as our relative was somewhat of an ep-
icure. After the first greetings and
mutual inquiries were over, Uncle Sam
passed to religious topics, and much to
our surprise we learned that he had be-
come interested in the new doctrine of
Methodism. An itinerant preacher up-
on a tour had stopped at his house and

REMINISCENCES

claimed hospitality, which had been
cordially extended. A clergyman of
the strictest Calvinistic proclivities had
been recently settled over the congre-
gation at Berlin. Uncle Sam did not
coincide with the new minister, but he
was immediately impressed by the
views which his guest unfolded. It
was near the end of the week, and the
missionary was invited to stop over
Sunday and preach in the schoolhouse.
The news circled through the district
and the building was thronged. The
people were not united respecting the
regular minister, and the stranger pro-
duced a marked effect. He was invited
to prolong his sojourn ; Uncle Sam and
many others became converted, and a
church was formed. The preacher had
then gone to new spheres of labor, but
Uncle Sam and others conducted a reg-
ular Sunday worship at the school
house.

Before returning Uncle Sam gave us
a specimen of Methodism in a long and
singularly well-worded prayer, deliver-
ed in the loudest tones of a powerful
but finely modulated voice ; this peti-
tion was followed by a good hymn set
to one of the enlivening Methodist
tunes. Mr. Smith had a remarkable
voice and an exquisite ear and taste,
and his singing was superb, I was
enchanted b}' it. Mother liked the
hymn, but father shook his head and
gravely declared his sorrow : " Sam's
head always would be full of some-
thing. He had got over dancing and
poetry, now it was preaching, pray-
ing and singing. "Well, what was born
in the bone could not be beat out of
the flesh. He never was cut out for a
drudging farmer, and he never would
be one ; he only hoped he would not
let that farm he had got under such

headway go all to rack and ruin."
Grandm'am was so deaf that it was
difficult to make her comprehend the
matter ; but Uncle Sam was too zeal-
ous to leave her long unenlightened.
This good woman was positively
aghast : " Her son, her son Sam, turn-
ed Methodist !"

Grandm'am came of a " first fami-
ly ;" she was as complete an aristocrat
as ever trod in No. 2 shoes. " Some-
thing must be done ; she could not
have any such doings. Why, it was a
disgrace to the family, and would
bring ruin to himself! He had be-
come of some account in that far- aw a v
place ; he should not subject himself
and his friends to ignominy, and mar
his bright prospects. Methodists, why
they were ranters, gathered from the
lower classes ! . Her son had nothing
to do with such people. It was pre-
posterous !" And the sweet, mild little
woman put on all the assumption of
authority that she could possibly as-
sume, and in the most solemn manner
pronounced her ban upon this new
spiritual scheme. Aunt Sarah pished
and pshawed over the praying and
singing, then fidgeted and fussed re-
specting the business of selling and
buying, declaring that " Brother was
so full of his new religion that he
couldn't tell a cent from a dollar ;" and
when he brought home a dress pattern
of black silk for his wife, and a tasty
blue silk bonnet for his daughter, she
sat clown with a hopeless face, folded
her hands, and with uplifted eyes,
washed her hands of the whole pro-
ceedings. " Sam would never be a
forehanded farmer, and she really
feared he would become clean -dis-
traught. The Lord wasn't deaf, he
needn't holler so at prayer as to make

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

the warming-pan ring in the cellar
way, or to scare Uncle Thurrel's folks,
who couldn't imagine what all that
shouting over to Jim Smith's meant.
.She thought Method}' women cut off
their hair and made frights of them-
selves, but then sister hadn't lost her
senses, like her husband, as she knowed,
and for all his piety, Sam had too much
of the old Adam yet, to let his pretty
Sail}- wear anything but the most be-
coming." A thaw came and Uncle
Sam's stay was prolonged. The intel-
ligence of his embracing Methodism,
caused no small stir amongst his rela-
tives and acquaintances, and every eve-
ning our house was thronged. Some
came to hear of the new doctrines from
mere curiosity, others from a desire for
knowledge, and a few earnestly to com-
bat what they deemed a serious error,
affecting both the temporal and spiritu-
al welfare of the convert. Amongst
the most forward and zealous of this
class, was Aunt Ruth Little. It was
vastly amusing to listen to the war of
words, and, it must be confessed, Un-
cle Sam proved more than a match for
the contestants. Politics also claimed
a due share in the conversation. Par-
ties were in a furious ferment. "Fed-
eralist" and "Democratic" (or Jacob-
in, as the party was usually termed)
lines were tightly drawn, each display-
ing unseemly rancor and bitterness,
which had sometimes merged into strife.
Father and Uncle Sam were Jacobins,
the majority of the visitors Federalists.
Uncle Thurrel was a great politician.
In the strongest terms he would de-
nounce ' ' that Tom Jefferson ; if he was
raised to the presidency there would be
a second French revolution ; the nation
would find to their sorrer that they had
got a second Robertspear to rule over

"em." Robespierre had for a time been
Uncle Thurrel's pet bugbear, and his
name continued to be brought forward
long after he was mouldering in the
grave. Aunt Ruth, with characteristic
A'ehemence, would plunge into the dis-
cussion. Her face aglow, and her knit-
ting needles clicking, she would volubly
expatiate upon the unsoundness and ir-
reverence of the great Democratic lead-
er. ' ' Why, if he was elected president
the country would be turned upside
down ! Tom Jefferson was no better
than Tom Paine. He believed in Vol-
taire as much as he did in Christ, and
put the Age of Reason afore the Bible.
Let him get the reins of government
and there would be no more 'Sabba'
day ; ' the meetin'-'uses would all be
shet, and another rein of terror spread
over the land."

At the height of his wife's vehemence
quiet Uncle John contrived to change
the subject, by some timely question or
droll remark. Uncle Sam would tune
tip in one of his lively Methodist hymns,
and the company would disperse in all
neighborly friendship, though Aunt
Ruth never went without a last word of
warning and rebuke.

CHAPTER XIV.

A second surprise came to the fam-
ily and parish in the engagement of
Aunt Susanna Little to her first cousin
Robert Adams. This young gentleman
had inherited what, at that period, was
reckoned a fortune ; as he was hand-
some and prepossessing, he had been
riageable daughters in the most favora-
regarded by anxious mammas and mar-

ble light, and the efforts had not been
slight, to win his favor, but young Rob-
ert had proved invulnerable. Though
he had taken possession of his farm,
he had boarded in the family of his
cousin Edmund Little, who rented his
house, in bachelor content. Now, with-
out the least warning, it was announced
that Sukey Little had won the prize,
that Mr. Adams was making arrange-
ments to put up a new house, and the
marriage would take place on its com-
pletion in the autumn.

The Adams families of Newbury
claim to have descended from John Ap
Adam, who was summoned to parlia-
ment as a Baron of the Realm from
1296 to 1307. He descended from a
family in Wales whose record runs back
several centuries. The genealogy is as
follows :

John Ap Adam Elizabeth Gourney.
Sir John Ap Adam
William Ap Adam
Sir John Ap Adam
Thomas Ap Adam Jane Inge.
Sir John Ap Adam Miliscent Besylls.
Sir John Ap Adam alias Adams Clara
Powell.

Roger Adams Jane Eliott.
Thomas Adams Maria Upton.
John Adams Jane Benneleigh.
John Adams Catherine Stebling.
John Adams Margaret Squier.
Richard Adams Margaret Armager

who had two sons, Robert, who mar-
ried Elizabeth Shirland, and William,

who married Barrington. Henry,

one of the sons of William, came to
New England in 1630, and died in
Braintree. He was the ancestor of the
presidents John and John Quincy Ad-
ams. Robert, the son of Robert, came
from Devonshire to Ipswich in 1635,
thence to Salem in 1638, and . to
Newbury in 1640. His wife, Eleanor,
died June 12th, 1677. He died Oct.
12th, 1682. His second wife, Sara.
widow of Henry Short, he married

Feb. 6th, 1678. She died Oct. 24th,
1 6D7. Children : Abraham, born 1639 ;
Isaac, born 1648 ; Jacob, born April 23,
1649, died in infancy ; another Jacob
born Sept. 13th, 1651 ; Hannah, born
June 25th, 1650; Robert, Elizabeth,
Joanna, Mary and John. Abraham
Adams, son of Robert married Mary
Pettingell, Nov. 16th, 1670. Children ;
Robert, born May 12, 1674 ; Abraham,
born Ma}* 2d, 1676 ; Isaac, bora Feb.
26th, 1679 ; Sara, born April 15th, 1681 ;
Matthew, born" May 25th, 1686 ; Israel.
born Dec. 25th, 1688 ; Dorothy, born
Oct. 25th, 1691 ; Richard, born Nov.
22d, 1693. Matthew, the fourth son
of Abraham Adams, born Ma}- 25th,
1686, married Sara Knight April 4th,
1707, and was the first physician in
what is now West Newbury, where he
owned a large tract of land. He died
Nov. 15th, 1755, aged 69. He had
two sons, Matthew and Abraham, and
two daughters ; one married Joseph
Bartlett, of the west precinct, the other,
Judith, married my great grandfather,
Capt. Edmund Little. Their daughter,
Eunice, married her kinsman Robert
Adams of the "Farms District," who
purchased the farm on Crane-neck for-
merly owned by my grea-tnncle Wil-
liam Smith. Mr. Adams died young
leaving this one son Robert. The Ap
Adams arms are

ARGENT, ON A CJ!O.<? GULES, FIVE MULLETS OR.

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

Great was the commotion over the
engagement. Suddenly several people
made the discovery that gentle, quiet
Aunt Suke}' ' ' was a sly thing, a real
artful piece, despite her demure ways ;
still waters ran the deepest. They
guessed Robert Adams would rue the
day he married her, the proud miss, so
grand in her airs the ground didn't
seem good enough for her to tread on !
No good ever came of such marriages,
first cousins were altogether too near."
A series of visits were vouchsafed us,
which we well understood was for the
express purpose of gleaning informa-
tion respecting the pros and cons of the
affair. Amongst these visitors were
two of the old maid Hills. Joseph,
Joshua, Nabbie, Lizzie, Nannie and
Hannah Hills, resided on a farm on a
cross road beyond Meeting House hill.
Out of this family, one brother, Mr.
Eliphelet Hills, alone had married.
Mr. Joseph and Joshua were pleasant,
estimable men. In company with
mother's uncle, John Merrill (the great
grandfather of Ben : Parley Poore) ,
Uncle Josh, for }-ears, took tea with us
in the Thanksgiving holidays, when the
jolly pair smacked their lips, joking
each other about gormandizing over
" Prudy's niceties." The sisters were
precise, genteel bodies, in their more
youthful days attired in the tip of the
mode, greatly exciting my admiration
as the}' followed one another up the
broad aisle of the meeting-house with
silks rustling and plumes waving. Mrs.
Liph. Hills (a Miss Sarah Wyman
from the vicinity of Boston) was a
a milliner. She had a shop in her house
on the main road, where she worked at
her trade, and kept a variety of wares,
and her sisters-in-law were famed for
their tasty head gear. They had also

become noted for several little, harm-
less idiosyncrasies. Some ideas re-
specting housekeeping were especially
ludicrous. Though the food was bought
in common, each brother and sister pro-
vided their own tea and coffee, and
each had a separate pot. Uncle Joe
drank chocolate, Uncle Josh, coffee,
Miss Nabby, strong old hyson, Miss
Lizzie liked hers weaker, Miss Nannie
preferred young hyson, while Miss
Hannah never drank anything but Sou-
chong. It was exceedingly diverting
to see the six small pots, like the
" four and twenty white pots all in a
row," sizzling on six little mounds of
embers before the capacious fire. Vis-
itors could take their choice, or have a
variety. The girls of the vicinity got
a deal of fun, from visiting the maid-
ens, and taking a sip all round. On a
wild March day, about one o'clock, in
the midst of a smart snow squall, I
caught a glimpse of Miss Nannie's red
cloak whisking round the corner of the
house, while Miss Lizzie, a stout,
heavy woman, breathlessly toiled in the
rear. I ran to admit the visitors, who
came laughing in, Miss Nannie inquir-
ing, "if I thought they snowed down
in the squall?" Having rested and
gained their breath, they divested them-
selves of cloaks and hoods, informing
us as they did so "that they had come
early and must go early ; they should
like tea in good season." This was an
invariable formula, and had passed into
a by- word amongst the lively young
people. Having become comfortably
ensconced before the fire, their fine
company knitting in hand, the stream
of talk commenced. Aunt Sarah was
able to crow over the others, as she
had possessed Robert Adams' confi-
dence some weeks before his proposal.

REMINISCENCES

' ' She saw no hurt in the young coup-
le marrying, although the} 7 were near
relations. They were wholly dissimi-
lar in temperament, and strongly at-
tached to each other. The Littles were
famous for intermarrying ; she could
not see that any hurt had come of it.
Take them as a whole they were a pret-
ty smart lot." The visitors wisery
shook their heads, and as wisely con-
cluded that the young couple would
take their "ain gate " spite of remarks
or remonstrance. The sisters had a
deal to tell of the Daltons and Hoop-
ers, two distinguished families, owning
two elegant country seats on "Pipe
Stave Hill." Mr. Dalton, at that time
our senator in Congress, was in Wash-
ington, but his family were at their
town residence, the fine old mansion
opposite the Merrimac House in New-
buryport. The Hoopers remained
through the year in the country. Sev-
eral gay sleighing parties had ridden
up to the farm during the winter ; the
spacious residence had been the scene
of much convivial festivity. Madam
Hooper had also spent some weeks in
Boston. A detailed account of the
splendor of the wardrobe prepared for
this excursion was given and various
other on dits of fashionable life, and
city and town gossip related. Punctu-
ally at four o'clock, tea was on the ta-
ble ; the ladies having regaled them-
selves, and duly praised the -viands, es-
pecially the plum cake and the cheese
"Mr. Newell said Prudy Smith's
cheese commanded the highest price in
the market at the Port" took their
leave in high good humor. Drawing
their hoods over their noses, and wrap-
ping their thick, red cloaks about them,
they declared that the} 1 should be "as
warm as toast ; the wind would drive

them home, and they should get there
in grand good season."

A few mornings after this visit, we
received a great scare. I went into the
garret, and, glancing out of the win-
dow, to my amazement and fright, I
discerned a dense smoke rising from
Mr. Oliver Dole's pasture, at the foot
of the hill. I lost no time in hastening
down and spreading the alarm. Fath-
er, Uncle Enoch, and Uncle Thurrel's
folks hurried over to their neighbors.
As the wind, which had blown at sun-
rise, had increased to a gale, the pro-
gress of the flames was eagerly watched.
How that pasture came to be burning
we could not imagine, but the fire soon
spent itself, and the return of the gen-
tlemen solved the mystery. The en-
closure had grown over to huckleberry
bushes ; in the season, people came to
pick the berries. Mrs. Dole was a
Carlton, from the main road, and she
had man}' visitors. Wagonful after
wagonful of women and children would
ride over, put the horse in the barn, go
into the pasture and fill their baskets
with huckleberries, then come back to
the house to tea. This, in the busy hay
season, was somewhat inconvenient,
especially as Mrs. Dole was not a veiT
strong woman. Mr. Dole, though
neither a morose nor stingy man, lost
his patience, and declared a stop should
be put to this ' ' huckleberrying visita-
tion." Accordingly, he set fire to his
bushes, thinking to totally destroy
them ; but, instead, the rising wind
sent the flames lightl}' over the brush-
wood, without touching the roots, and
the result was a splendid growth of
bushes and an abundant quantity of
the largest and most luscious fruit.
Mrs. Dole and the neighbors had much
sport respecting the result of her hus-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

band's destructive efforts. Mrs. Dole
said : ' ' Providence did not smile on
his inhospitable intent." The children
had grown large enough to pick, and
the berries were so nice, Mr. Dole mar-
keted them at the Port to much advan-
tage, besides entertaining the visitors.
Owners of old huckleberry pastures
could take a hint, and, by copying Mr.
Dole's mode of culture, improve what
in these days has become quite a desid-
eratum in the market.

CHAFfER XV.

One of the great institutions of those
days was the spring and fall trainings.
There were company musters at the
training field on the main road in May
and September, and a regimental re-
view at the Plains some time in au-
tumn. The officers of these militia
companies alone wore uniforms, the pri-
vates mostly turned out in their Sun-
day suits. The musket in those days
was fired by a flint, the spark from
which lighted the priming in a little ex-
ternal pan connected with the interior
charge through a small vent. A prim-
ing wire about the size of a common
knitting needle, and a little brush two
inches long, which hung by a brass
chain to the belt, were used to keep
the vent clear and the pan clean. These
training days were the occasion for a
general frolic, especially the reviews.
General trainings drew a motley crowd,
venders of all sorts of wares, mounte-
banks and lewd women ; a promis-
cuous assemblage, bent upon pleasure.
Beyond the lines there was always
much carousing and hilarious uproar.

Many customs were then in vogup, now
obsolete in military circles, such as fir-
ing at the legs of an officer at his ap-
pointment to test his courage, and fir-
ing a salute before the residence of a
new officer at sunrise on the morning
of training day. Of course the recipi-
ent of these honors was expected to
give a treat. Many a poor fellow be-
came somewhat "onsteady" before the
da}' had far advanced, and more were
hors-du-combat ere it had closed. Ac-
cidents often occurred. One officer,
from the careless loading of a gun, re-
ceived a severe wound in the leg, and
Mr. Oliver Pillsbury had several lights
in his new house broken at a salute in
honor of his attaining a lieutenancy.
At this review there was a large caval-
ry company, including members from
both Newburyport and Newbury. New-
buryport had one uniformed company,
the artillery. I very well remember how
imposing they looked to Taj childish
eyes as they marched onto the muster
field at the plains, to the music of fife
and drum, with waving flag, and fol-
lowed by their field pieces. The regi-
mental bands were then unknown. The
foot soldiers marched to the fife and
drum, the cavalry to the notes of the
bugle. Colby Rogers was trumpeter
for the troops for many years. The
Governor and staff and many distin-
guished guests were present on the
great day I have recalled. A public
dinner was given and the festivities
were closed by a grand ball in the even-
ing.

I was about seven years old when
this militia system was organized, and
well do I remember the sensation pro-
duced by the officers of our company
presenting themselves at meeting, the
Sunday preceding the fall training, in

REMINISCENCES

their .new uniforms. Somerby Chase
was captain ; Amos Carltori, lieuten-
ant ; Paul Bailey, ensign ; John Pea-
body, Josiah Hill, Caleb Chase, and
Moses Carr, first, second, third and
fourth lieutenants ; Mr. Bill Hill was
brigade quartermaster. Capt. Good-
rich, though he had not then attained
that title, was an officer in the cavalry,
and he came out in the new troopers'
uniform, a red coat, buff vest and
pants, black leather cap trimmed with
bear skin, and a tall, stiff, straight,
red plume. This was a splendid sight
for our unsophisticated country folks,
and I fear little attention was given to
the sermon.

The tedium of the summer work was
relieved by the cutting, curing and
boating the salt hay from the Plum
Island marsh. Ever}- farmer then
owned more or less of salt meadow ; no
one thought of wintering stock without
salt haj-. Though this brought much
heavy labor to both men and women,
it was a break in the monotony of the
daily round of toil, and for the males, a
change of air and scene which my fath-
er considered most beneficial.

Our hired help were men from the
small hamlet in the woods, beyond the
pond, called Dogtown, and good, hon-
est, trust}* laborers they were. Uncle
Burrel was father's chief factotum, but
Joe Gould, Amos Pillsbury, Oliver
Goodrich and the Rogerses were also
employed. The rate of wages was
about fifty cents a day and board,
through the six working days ; they
slept and spent the Sabbath at home.
They often preferred to receive their
pay in the products of the farm, such
as corn, Indian meal, potatoes, pork,
and a little butter. This was a mutual
convenience, and the best of feelings

and the most friendly terms were al-
ways maintained between the employer
and the employed. Dogtown was two
miles distant from Crane-neck, and,
after passing Dole's pond, the road ran
through thick woods. This, on some
dark and stormy nights, was rather
bug-a-booish, and on one occasion old
Pillsbury got a terrible scare, from
which he never became wholly relieved.
We were at breakfast when he entered
one morning, looking frightened, and
pale. "What is the matter?" was in-
stantly queried. The old man lisped
slightly: "Oh, Mr. Smith, I see a ter-
rible critter in the woods bey ant the
pond last night."

"A terrible critter, Pillsbury? What
was it like?" father inquired.

"Oh, Mr. Smith, it was a terrible
big critter, as big as Brindle's calf; its
eyes were like fire coals, and it ran
past me through the bushes, about a
rod from the road, with every hair
whistling like a bell. It must have
been the wolverine."

"The what, Pillsbury?"

"The wolverine. My old granny
used to keep us young 'uns quiet with
stories about the wolverine out beyant
in the woods. I used to be afeared to
stir ten yards from the door o' nights ;
but, as I had never seen the critter
afore, I had begun to think it was one
of granny's stories, but I seed him last
night, sartin sure ; and his eyes were
like fire coals, and every hair whistled
like a bell."

The old man was so sure that he had
met some strange animal that the neigh-
boring men turned out that night, each
armed and equipped for a deadly en-
counter with some ferocious beast, but
nothing was found ; and, though the
quest was continued by the young men

OF A NOHAGE^ARIAN.

and boys for several evenings, no
strange animal was ever discovered.
But old Pillsbury, to his dying da}',
used to declare there was ' ' a wolverine
in them woods, with eyes like coals of
fire, and ever}' hair whistling like a
bell," and nothing conld ever again in-
duce the old man to travel the road
alone after nightfall.

Father's salt meadow was at Hale's
cove. Grandsir Little owned one be-
low, in Rowley, and which, as shoe-
making was brisk, father cut for sever-
al years in addition to his own. The
English hay in the barn, the grain
reaped and the flax pulled, towards the
last of August or the first of Septem-
ber, according to the tides, the salt hay
season began. Father and the other
mowers these were neighbors, adepts
in mowing, to whom the highest wages,
a dollar a day, was paid rode to Old-
town bridge ; the horse having been
stabled in one of the adjacent barns,
Plum Island river was crossed in a
wherry hired for the day, and the work
commenced. There was a sufficiency
of hands to cut the grass before sun-
set. Having been left to dry for a day
or so, another day was devoted to cur-'
ing it ; then came the boating. This
was the grand epoch. Nice food was
provided for the mowers and rakers,
but boating brought a dog-days Thanks-
giving baking. Mince pies, plum cake,
rich doughnuts, nice meats, baked beans
and other tempting viands were packed
in a wooden chest, along with a small
keg of cider and a bottle of "Santa
Cruz" or "Jamaica." Many fanners
would have thought it impossible to
get a freight without a gallon or more
of rum, but father was a temperate
man, and careful not to put any temp-
tation before those in his employ. The

gondola laid at the foot of "Whetstone
lane ; if the weather proved auspicious
the freight was usually at the landing in
thirty-six hours. The neighbors turned
out with their teams, and the hay was
carted home, a distance of two miles,
in a triumphant procession. The mow
laid, the supper, a most jovial enter-
tainment, was disposed of, and the
weary men separated with the declara-
tion that a "good job, well over," had
been completed. Though this hay sea-
son gave additional toil to the women
of the household, it also brought long
leisure days ; after the men were finally
off in the early morning and the work
done, the rest of the da}' was often de-
voted to visiting.

Father had been boating Grandsir Lit-
tle's hay. I was there to assist, when
we received an afternoon visit from
two neighbors the Misses Hill elder-
ly young ladies, very genteel and prer
cise. The conversation turned upon
the universal topic, the haying. The
visitors expressed much disgust at the
whole business. " The toil of cooking
iu such hot weather was so undesira-
ble, and so much food must be provid-
ed, it was not possible to prevent some
from being uneaten, but they always
threw that away ; they never could
stomach anything after it had been
packed for the meadows." As the
family were not noted for an overabun-
dance in their larder at any time, and
the ' ' short commons " given to their
hired help was proverbial, we were
rather diverted at their remarks. It
so chanced that when the provision
chest had been unloaded the previous
evening, a mince pie, a loaf of cake
and a plate of doughnuts had been ta-
ken out. These with many sly glances
to her mother, sister and myself, Aunt

REMINISCENCES

Hannah placed upon the tea table.
The visitors enjoyed their supper ex-
ceedingly, helped themselves twice to
the plum cake "Mrs. Little's raised
cake was alwaj-s so nice, so much bet-
ter than they could make ; she had the
' knack ' for this ;" the other edibles
were equally eulogized. At early dusk,
in time for milking, our visitors left us,
without the least idea that the}' had
been feasting on ' ' horrid meadow vict-
uals."

In October Aunt Suke}- was mar-
ried. She had a very quiet wedding,
and as the new house was completed,
the young couple took immediate pos-
session. The new home was only a
few rods from the old one ; though so
near, still, the bride's absence from the
paternal hearth caused a serious vacu-
um in the household. Uncle Bill mar-
ried the j'ear after Aunt Betsy ; now
only Hannah. Ben and Joe remained.
Though Sukey was the most retiring
and reticent of the family, she had been
exceedingly efficient, and she was
missed even* hour of the day in a mul-
tiplicity of matters. Some question
respecting the weather had been moot-
ed ; it was referred to grandsir : " I do
not know, Robert carried away our al-
manac," was his reply. Much sur-
prised, I cast my eyes to the nail by
the fireplace where the family calender
always hung. It was in its place.
Grandsir caught my look of wonder,
and the twinkle of his eyes gave me
the hint. Sure enough ! Robert had
not only earned away the almanac, but
a whole treatise of wisdom and pru-
dence beside.

CHAPTER XVI.

April brought the annual "Fast."

To overtasked or parsimonious house-
keepers this might be a welcome holi-
day, on which they could sj-mpathize
with old Mrs. Tom Pike of Byfield,
who declared ' ' she'd rnther have
two Fasts than one Thanksgivin'," but
to the 3'oung folks and children, the
da}- was somewhat of a bug-bear. In
some families of the "stricter sort,"
the children were wont to surreptitious-
ly store a quantity of food against the
hungry day. The Perley boj'S of By-
field always contrived to lay by salt
fish and crackers in the hay mow. and
other young people of my acquaintance
managed to obtain a luncheon between
the meetings. The late Deacon Jo-
seph Hale of Byfield, often related an
incident of a Fast day of his boyhood.
Having accompanied the sons of the
Rev. Moses Parsons to the parsonage
to spend the noon intermission, some-
what to his surprise, if not horror,
those young gentleman stealthily enter-
tained him and supplied themselves
with a hearty meal. Having become
fairly gorged with good cheer, they
seated themselves quietly in the kitch-
en. As the hour for the afternoon ser-
vice approached, the good parson, with
a kindly regard for youthful stomachs.
came into the room and told the boys,
' ' that if they were very hungry he
would permit a slight lunch." This the
young scamps piously declined, " not
wishing to make any infringement on
the religious observance of the day,"
and their clerical papa entered upon the
afternoon duties, in the full satisfaction
of possessing sons worthy of a sire's
confidence and approbation. In most
households, the breakfast over, a pot
of beans and an Indian pudding were
put in the oven ; the morning chores
done, a sabbatical silence settled over

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

(31

the household. At eleven o'clock ev-
ery one repaired to the meeting-house ;
as there was but an hour's intermission
between the services, few left the sanc-
tuary. The men gathered round the
door steps, discussing local topics
or national affairs, the women congre-
gated in the pews, to talk over house-
hold matters and the gossip of the
neighborhood. If it was a warm day,
the girls gathered on the sunn}- side of
the meetinghouse, where many sly glan-
ces were exchanged with the group of
3"oung men by the horse block. If it
chanced to be cold they also sought the
pews, and in groups discussed fashion
and the beaux, but with a demure air,
and in low tones as befitted the occa-
sion.

The clerg}-men generally embraced
this opportunity for some particular
theme, some peculiar shortcoming eith-
er of a local or political nature. Dr.
Elijah Parish was famed for his " Fast "
sermons. People used to flock to By-
field meeting-house to hear the doctor's
diatribes against Jacobin misrule and
French infidelity. The afternoon ser-
vice over, the hungry multitude hast-
ened home to the beans and pudding
which were nicely smoking in the oven.
How the gravel stones of the rough
road would fly as the impatient steeds
sped down the precipitous descent to
the peril of life and limb. Supper and
milking through, the evening was spent
in reading and conversation. I should
not have dared to have taken a needle
in hand on Fast day. To the horror of
the community, one Fast evening,
"Bartlett's boys" and some other
young men went over to "Gunket,"
and played ball after supper. One of
the number, Enoch Hale, had the mis-
fortune to sprain his arm, and was una-

ble to work for some months. This
was regarded as a special mark of Di-
vine displeasure, a signal judgment
for a heinous crime.

That spring brought a new fashion
in head gear. Straw bonnets came in-
to vogue. Peabody, Waterman & Co.
received an invoice from England, and
Mrs. Peabody presented one to her sis-
ter Hannah. I greatly admired this
bonnet, but mother said she could not
afford to buy me one that season.
Aunt Sarah, noticing nry discontented
visage, inquired the cause, at which
she signified her readiness to teach me
to braid straw, and make myself a bon-
net. Much surprised, I asked how she
had learned. " As I have most things,
I taught myself," was the reply. "Dur-
ing the Revolutionary war two British
cruisers for two days lay off the mouth
of the Merrimac. The inhabitants of
the "Port" were greatly alarmed, mo-
mentarily expecting a bombardment.
Your great-aunt Mollie Noyes packed
her effects, and, with her children, came
here. Though the men-of-war with-
drew without any demonstration, as the
news immediately came that Captain
Noyes's vessel had been captured, and
himself and crew were prisoners at
Dartmoor, Mrs. Noyes remained some
time. Your father was troubled with
headache, and often complained of
the heat of his wool hat. One day
during haying, Aunt Noyes brought
him a straw hat, which she said
Captain Noyes had brought from for-
eign parts. After it was worn out
your father missed it so much that the
idea struck me of braiding one. We
had a field of oats. I cut some straw,
took the old hat, and, after patiently
unbraiding and braiding for a time, at
length succeeded in obtaining the se-

REMINISCENCES

cret. I braided and sewed a hat, which,
though not as handsome as the foreign
one, did very well. I braided several,
and can teach }~ou. When the oats
are large enough to cut you can make a
prett}- bonnet."

Mother tried to dissuade me from
this project. She didn't believe I could
' ' make anything decent." I was strong
in faith, and my aunt upheld this de-
termination. As soon as the straw was
ripe I began to plait, and soon had
sufficient for a bonnet. The straw
was finer than Aunt Hannah's, but, as
no knowledge of bleaching had been
obtained, it was not as white ; still, it
looked very weh 1 . Aunt Sarah fash-
ioned it in the prevailing mode, but a
difficulty arose respecting pressing.
The front was easily managed, but how
could the crown be shaped? Aunt Sa-
rah was a person of expedients ; I nev-
er knew her frustrated in anything she
set about. A mortar was turned bot-
tom upward, paper fitted over it, and
the crown shaped to the requisite form.
I was jubilant over this bonnet, and
my aunt Peabody sent a white ribbon
to trim it, like Aunt Hannah's. Neith-
er before nor after do I think I was ever
so proud of an article of dress as I was
of that bonnet. After this we cut a
quantity of straw, and I braided father
a hat.

This summer was memorable for the
dismissal of our district school teacher.
Joseph Adams, a young man of nine-
teen, and nephew of Mrs. Oliver Dole,
had been hired to teach the summer
school. He professed great piety, and
maintained a grave demeanor, which,
in school, grew into an imperial stern-
ness, a manner not calculated to win
the scholars' affections. Many of the
parents became dissatisfied after the

first few days. My father declared the
teacher wholly unfit for his place ; but
the summer school was short, and, from
respect to Mr. and Mrs. Dole, nothing
was said until I rebelled. There were
about half a dozen girls in their teens
in the school ; and, about the third
week of the term, Master Adams
brought a book, from which he pro-
posed that we should read selec-
tions. This exercise was in addition
to the regular course. I have forgot-
ten the title of the book, but it was
some religious treatise. Having ranged
the class before his desk, he took the
book, and, standing behind the pupil,
he passed his arms around her neck,
holding it before her, while he correct-
ed the errors of pronunciation and
enunciation. A sentence having been
read, he passed to the second, and so
down the class. Being the youngest.
I was the last. The dresses were at
that time cut low in the neck, and I
immediately saw that the young man's
gaze was not constantly fixed upon the
book, and I determined that his arms
should not go round me in that man-
ner ; I would either hold the book or
not read. When my turn came I sig-
nified this decision. The master turned
as red, and bristled up like a turkey
" cock ; but my resolution could not be
shaken, and a compromise was effected,
he holding one side of the book and I
the other. Father said that I had done
right ; I might do as I pleased respect-
ing the reading ; it was not a regular
school exercise, and the master had no
right to force me. Accordingly, the
next afternoon, I declined to join the
class. The master began to threaten,
but soon saw he could not use coercion.
Thenceforth I was permitted to pursue
my own course, but I immediate ly per-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

ceived that I had become a special ob-
ject of enmit}- ; a spite that was ex-
tended to the other and younger mem-
bers of my family. My brother James
was menaced with a whipping for a
slight misdemeanor, but the sturdy boy
threatened his father's vengeance in
such a manner that the master wisely
desisted. Still, I could see the smoth-
ered wrath, ready to seize the first op-
portunity when it could find vent.
The opportunit}' was at length taken.
My uncle, Enoch Smith, had married,
some years previous, Miss Hannah
Woodman. Their two sons, Samuel
and Moses, attended school. Moses
was a poor, little, puny boy of five
years, a delicate, sickly child from in-
fancy, but of a quiet and amiable dis-
position, and, having a wholesome
dread of Master Adams, he was the
ast one to have made a disturbance.
Diah Dole, the great dunce, that Mas-
ter Chase thumped and shook so un-
mercifully, was fully double in age.
He occupied a front desK ; Moses sat
on the low form in front of that. One
afternoon, soon after the school was
called to order, Diah spat upon the
floor, and with his toe (he was bare-
foot) marked out a figure in the aisle,
then, contrary to rules, leaned forward
and whispered: "Mose, look at my
cock ; I 've made a cock, a biddy."
The little boy glanced from his primer,
and, with a look of disdain, drew his
shoe over the figure. Diah, with an
angry push, said : ' ' You have spoiled
my cock ! " Moses put up his hand
and slapped Diah's face. The master
flew from his desk, shook Moses un-
mercifully, and told Diah to mind his
book. At recess he directed Moses to
bring him a rod from a bush by the
roadside. The unsuspecting child

obeyed. I thought he was to be
whipped then, but the punishment was
held in reserve. I had hoped that my
suspicions had been groundless, that
Moses would not receive chastisement ;
but I found, when school was dismissed,
the little boy was retained. I hurried
home to inform his mother. It was
such a trivial thing Aunt Smith paid
little heed, but I kept an outlook, and
after a while I espied Moses creeping
up the lane ; dragging his little feet
wearily along, he sank upon a log just
inside the gate. I ran to him. He
gazed stupidly into my face, and, with
a piteous moan, sank fainting into my
arms. My cries aroused the family ;
the child was taken to the house, and
the plrysician summoned. Conscious-
ness was restored, but the poor little
back was shockingly mangled, and
vomiting continued at intervals through
the night. Dr. Eoore looked gruff and
glum, and took so much snuff I thought
he must choke. After a time he ex-
pressed a hope of the little boy's recov-
ery, but his maledictions on the cruel
teacher were both loud and deep "the
infernal scoundrel ; he would like to
seat him in the pillory and thrash him
within an inch of his life ! " This in-
dignation was universal. There was
not time to call a regular school meet-
ing that evening, but the gentlemen of
the neighborhood (they all had come
in to see Moses) agreed to meet at the
school-house the next morning and for-
bid Master Adams entrance. Accord-
ingly, when the young man opened the
door, he found himself confronted by
half a dozen of the influential men of
the town, who informed him that his
services were no longer required ; that
his presence in that house would not be
permitted. The discomfitted teacher

REMINISCENCES

for a time was terribly angry and defi-
ant, but at length was obliged to yield.
At a school meeting in the evening he
was deposed by a unanimous vote.
Uncle Enoch sued Mr. Adams, and the
case was tried at the September term
in Newbinyport. The master was sen-
tenced to pay the costs of court and
sixty dollars. The money was put in
the bank for Moses, and Mr. Adams,
unable to procure a school, was obliged
to lower his aspirations and obtain a
livelihood on the seat of a shoemaker's
bench.

I recall an incident that occurred
during this trial. Father and Uncle
Enoch returned one night from town,
declaring that they had that day wit-
nessed a sight that never had been seen
before and never would be again. A
vessel belonging to the then flourishing
firm of Farris & Stocker had arrived
from South America, and their super-
cargo, Mr. Oliver Putnam (since the
founder of the Putnam Free School) ,
had brought by it a large sum of mon-
ey. The Spanish government had pro-
hibited the exportation of bullion, and
Mr. Putnam had concealed the silver in
the sides of the vessel. Carpenters
were set to work to tear off the sheath-
ing, and the* Spanish dollars, turned as
black as ink, Avere taken in bushel bas-
kets and carried between two men, to
be cleansed in a large cauldron, bor-
rowed from a soap boiler's establish-
ment, which was placed over a fire kin-
dled for that purpose in Market square.

CHAPTER XVII.

Though years had elapsed, the mal-
contents of the parish had not buried
their discontent. Parson Woods had

failed to gain either their approval or
regard. A printed sermon in which
''bawdy French fashions" were se-
vere 1}' denounced had given umbrage
to a large number of the young people,
who declared that the language used in
this public reprimand was more inde-
cent than any thing they had ever dis-
plaA'ed in dress or manner. The cler-
gyman had become noted for a too
large development of the organ of ac-
quisitiveness ; he was accused of ef-
forts to serve mammon as well as the
Lord. In families where the pastor
was held in high regard by the mistress
of the mansion complaints were often
made by the other members of an un-
due generosity- towards the household
at the parsonage. I had a 3'ouug
friend whose residence was near, and
she declared she could never have a
fresh egg to make cake, and that her
mother really denied herself necessa-
ries to suppl}- the minister with luxu-
ries. A story flew like wildfire over
the parish, to the effect that Parson
Woods had made several calls one af-
ternoon, and at each place asked for a
small piece of cheese, as Mrs. Woods
had company from out of town ; that
at each house he had been presented
with a whole cheese, and that after the
last visit, as he drove from the door,
his sleigh tipped upon a drift, when lo !
nine cheeses rolled from beneath the
checked coverlet which served as a
sleigh robe. Another subject of ef-
front was the sale of turkeys presented
at Thanksgiving. This autumn the
minister declared he could not afford
to keep a horse ! At the announcement
Mr. Josiah Bartlett, Mr. Joseph New-
ell and Mr. Paul Bailey each sent him
a ton of hay, but in a short time both
the horse and the hay were sold. The

OF A

next complaint was a lack of fuel.
The usual quantities which had sup-
plied his predecessors was said to be
insufficient ; consequently two addi-
tional loads were draAvn. Lieut. Jo-
seph Noyes, an old revolutionary offi-
cer, was employed to saw and split the
wood. The morning that he com-
menced work Parson Woods went into
the yard, and after looking over the
pile he said, "Lieutenant, here are
some nice logs, too good for fire- wood,
it would be a pity to burn them ; here
are three or four just right for trunnels,
put them aside, they are too nice for
fuel."

The lieutenant made no exact reply,
but as soon as the minister's back was
turned, he fell to work with might and
main on those identical logs. After
dinner the parson again came out. Gaz-
ing hurriedly about, he excitedly ex-
claimed, "Where are those logs, .those
nice trunnell logs that i told you to
save ? "

" Save?" queried the wily old officer,
with an air of bewilderment.

"Yes, I told 3'ou to put them aside,
that they were too good for fire- wood."

"Well, realty now ! Sometimes I'm
a little hard o' hearing, parson. 1
thought you told me to split them fine
logs fust," innocently returned the un-
truthful old sinner, with a deprecatory
air.

"Well, well," said the pastor, "I
am sorry, but it cannot lie helped now.
I was not aware that 3*011 were deaf,
lieutenant, is that the cause of 3-0111- ab-
sence from divine worship?"

"Why yes, I used to go regerlarly
when a 3 r oungster, but going into the
army upsets people. War is a glorious
thing when one is fighting for one's lib-
erties, but it kind of onsettles a fellow.

I've had so many bullets whistling
round my ears, that half the time it
seems as if I couldn't hear anything
else."

"If you cannot hear, come and sit in
the pulpit ; I should be most happy to
have 3*ou," the parson replied in his
most polite manner, as he turned to re-
enter the house,

As the Lieutenant had said, the war
did unsettle a great many. Good offi-
cers made but poor civilians. Lieut.
Xo3"es would not have deliberately per-
formed a bad deed, but his moral sense
had become somewhat stretched, and a
good joke was the very breath in his
nostrils. Though since the end of the
war he had led somewhat of a desulto-
ry life, he always managed to dress
and appear like a gentleman. The.
next Sunday, to the wonder and con-
sternation of the congregation, just
after Parson Woods had taken his
place in the pulpit, the lieutenant, in
his best suit, his hair elaborate^* frizz-
ed, powdered and cued, marched up
the broad aisle with his most imposing
tread, and slowly ascended the pulpit
stairs. With a profound military sa-
lute he seated himself beside the par-
son. "What could it mean,?" The
amazement increased, when, as the
clerg3 r man rose to begin the service,
the lieutenant rose also ; standing a
little back with his head slightly in-
clined forward, and his hand behind
his ear, he continued to occupy his
post beside the pastor through
the long prayer and the longer ser-
mon. As every one knew the old
scamp was not the least deaf, they be-
gan to surmise that some mischief was
on foot, but ' k what was the mystery?"
After two or three Sabbaths, in which
the pranky old officer, with the gravity

REMINISCENCES

of forty judges, occupied a place in
the pulpit, the story of the trunnel
logs became whispered about, and his
presence there caused such a sensation
that the tithing man was compelled to
give him a seat on the long bench in
front. Aunt Ruth Little and others
declared some judgment must fall on
the reprobate ; but, notwithstanding
these menaces, he went on his wa}' re-
joicing, getting more treats than ever
at the tavern, and a more hearty wel-
come to good cheer throughout the vi-
cinity.

Parson Wood's friends were zealous
in his defence. "A minister had wants
of which the common people knew noth-
ing ; he had more calls for money. He
was a blessed man, a learned man ; his
thoughts soared above those of the mul-
titude, they ought not to be lowered
by petty cares and the many annoyan-
ces of this sublunary existence."

Mrs. Woods' bridal cloak, of white
satin, had become somewhat defaced,
and a subscription paper was put in
circulation the first of the winter to
obtain a sum to purchase black satin
for another. This gave cause for much
remark. It was averred that many
gave who could ill afford the outlay ;
some from a naturally generous im-
pulse, but more from a false pride that
would not permit them to omit cop}*ing
the example of their more wealthy
neighbors. Right or wrong, the sub-
scription was made, and a sufficient
amount obtained to purchase the satin
and a handsome sable muff and tippet.
The cloak, an elegant one, trimmed
with rich lace, was made by a commit-
tee of ladies chosen for that purpose,
at the residence of aunt Ruth Little,
and on New Year the articles were pre-
sented in due form.

A Baptist society had been estab-
lished in New Rowley. Mrs. Mollie
Little, uncle Enoch Little's wife, had
been a communicant of this church
previous to her marriage, and Mr. Lit-
tle had accompanied his wife to this
ministration. Finding so much divis-
ion in our parish, the Baptists organ-
ized a series of prayer and conference
meetings, which were held at Mr. Lit-
tle's house. My uncle Parker Smith's
family also attended the Baptist meet-
ings, and my two cousins, Hannah and
Nabb} r Smith, girls a few years my se-
nior, frequently came to attend the
meetings ; I accompanied them a few
times, but the odd phraseology of some
of the speakers illiterate persons but
full of zeal, coupled with the still
more singularly expressed experiences,
which were nightty related, worked so
strongly on my risibles, that it was
difficult for me to maintain a proper
decorum. Much to the horror of my
cousins, that which sent the tears roll-
ing down my cheeks, instead of bring-
ing any sanctifying convictions, merely
set me into hysterics from suppressed
merriment, and mother declared " I
was bad enough anyway, and that she
would not have me made worse by at-
tendance at these Baptist gatherings."
During the previous summer, one hot
afternoon, aunt Sarah ran down stairs
with the somewhat startling announce-
ment that ' ' Brother Sam, in his best
suit, with saddle-bags across the sad-
dle, was coming on horse-back up the
lane." We could scarcely believe she
had seen aright. Looking out, we
found it was no hallucination, but that
Uncle Sam, in the flesh, was leading
his horse into the stable. What could
it mean ? What could have called him
from home just in the midst of the

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

English hay season ? To the eager in-
quiries made on his entrance, he replied
in his most imposing style, that he had
been to Lynn to be ordained, that now
he was a licensed preacher of the Meth-
odist persuasion. Grandmam' groaned
over her son's infatuation, and aunt
Sarah worried about his grass. ''To
think of his leaving his farm then ! If
he must be ordained, why couldn't he
have waited for winter when he could
be spared." Father laughed ; "he had
always said Sam never would labor,
and he should prove a true prophet."
Lifted into a sphere above minor earth-
ly affairs, the gentleman departed for
his home on the morrow, wholly obliv-
ious to the prognostications of evil
from his course which burthened the
minds of his family and friends.

The interest in the Baptist meetings
was increasing, when uncle Sam made
us his annual winter visit. As soon as
his arrival became known he received a
pressing invitation to preach at Mr.
Little's Sunday evening, which was ac-
cepted with evident gratification. He
somewhat amused the family by his so-
licitude respecting his dress. As it
was cold weather, and he had not ex-
pected to preach, he had come unpro-
vided with a white necktie. A loan of
one was solicited, "as it looked more
clerical." Father laughingly told his
brother, as he handed him the handker-
chief, ' ' he saw that he yet retained a
piece of the old Adam." Aunt Sarah
contemptuously averred, " that he did
not live up to his creed "every earth-
ly pomp and vanity ought to be re-
nounced ; " but grandmam' declared
she was "glad to see that Sam had
some idea of the fitness of things ; if
he must preach Methody, it pleased
her to know that he wished to look and

appear like a gentleman, and did not
turn himself into an itinerant ranter."

The tidings that Mr. Sam Smith was
o expound the novel doctrines of Meth-
odism had called together a crowd, and
the ground rooms of the large house
were full. After the reading of a por-
tion of the Scripture came a prayer in
the usual fervent style ; a hymn having
been, sung the text was named Eze-
kiel 7th chap., 7th verse : " The morn-
ing is come upon thee, O thou that
dwellest in the land." From these
words a powerful discourse in elucida-
tion of the tenets of the new sect was
delivered. The speaker had found his
vocation ; he possessed the gift to en-
chain an audience, and he held this
promiscuous assembly in rapt attention
for over an hour. At the close of the
sermon up jumped Mr. Silas Moulton,
then one of Parson Woods' recent con-
verts, and in a fiery, " Hopkinsonian "
prayer, each one of Mr. Smith's doc-
trinal points was contra verted. This
brought on an ardent discussion. The
hour grew late ; Aunt Enoch Smith
and myself essayed to make our exit
by the back door. The eager and ex-
cited throng barred our progress. Da-
vid Emery, now a tall youth of seven-
teen, aided our efforts by raising a
couple of chairs above his head, when
we managed to squeeze out. The
night air was refreshing. One after
another the members of the family
came home, but it was after eleven
when father and uncle Sam arrived.
The preacher was completely exhaust-
ed. Family prayer was omitted, and
aunt Sarah filled the long-handled
warming-pan with bright coals, declar-
ing as she went to warm the bed, ' 'that if
it was her brother, she must say he
was great for argufying, and he had

REMINISCENCES

beat Silas Moulton out and out."
The morrow brought a severe snow
storm, which blocked the road to an
unusual degree. In the midst of this
storm, much to our astonishment, Mr.
Joseph Ames, one of the chief Baptist
speakers, came in. He had walked
the whole distance from Bradford in
that storm to converse with uncle Sam.
I became so tired of this discussion,
of hearing the changes rung and re-
rung upon the conflicting themes, that
I kindled a rousing fire in aunt Sarah's
chamber, and there sought a respite
from the sound of human tongues, and
the quiet requisite to an aching head .

CHAPTER XVIII.

The predictions of evil made at the
union of Robert Adams and Susan
Little had been fully realized. Con-
sanguinity, however, could not be as-
signed as a cause, but a tendency to
consumption, inherited from his father
in the bridegroom. Soon after his
marriage Mr. Adams had an attack of
hemorrhage of the lungs ; the next
summer he rallied and hopes were en-
tertained of his recovery, but the
bleeding recommenced, and after a
season of prostration and suffering, he
passed awa}% some two months prior
to the third anniversary of his marri-
age. One infant had gone before its
father, and a second, born after his
decease, only entered this world to
pass to another.

Aunt Sukey, completely crushed,
was thus left alone, the care of a farm
devolving upon her. My cousin Xab-

by Smith had been with Mrs. Adams
during her husband's illness, and it
was decided she should remain. Uncle
William Little sold the farm he had re-
cently purchased in Haverhill, and
came to take charge of his sister and
her estate. In March aunt Hannah
Little was married to Mr. James Stick -
ney. a young man who had for some
time resided with the brothers and sis-
ters Dole. A handsome, energetic
youth, he had won the regard of the
lone bachelors and maids, and they
highly favored his match with Hannah
Little, and had fitted apartments for
the young couple in their large house.

The snow which had fallen during
uncle Sam's visit still covered the
ground. On the morning of the eigh-
teenth, father and I rode directly over
the stone wall dividing the field from
the street, on our wa}- to grandsir Lit-
tle's, but in half an hour the water
poured in a perfect torrent down the
hill, the brook rose in an unexampled
manner, and tin- reads became nearly
impassable. The wedding was appoint-
ed at eight o'clock Only the family
and nearest relatives had been invited,
and it was with extreme difficulty that
the}' reached the hon>--. Mr. Stick-
ney came in looking unusually pale
and complaining of a lameness in the
back, caused by a fall the day previ-
ous. The ladder had slipped as he
was descending from the hay-mow, and
he fell with great force directly across
the machine for breaking flax. The
sorrow and concern felt at this accident
was expressed', but no one entertained
the slightest idea that any serious con-
sequences would ensue, or that it would
entail any lasting effect. Parson
Woods having sold his horse walked
over from the main road. His feet

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

were thorough!}- saturated. Dry hose
and slippers were furnished, and
grandmam' bade me bring the minister
a glass of wine, as a preventative
against taking cold, but the clerg3*man
said : " if it was just as convenient he
would prefer a little rum and molasses."
The toddy having been furnished, the
company repaired to the parlor. Aunt
Hannah looked lovely in a white jaconte
muslin ; you would have to go a long
way. as aunt Judy Dole said, to see a
handsomer couple. Travelling was so
difficult, the company dispersed at an
early hour. The bride and groom re-
mained at grandsir's till the next day.
Aunt Sukey and Nabbj- Smith essayed
to walk the distance home, but were
obliged to return and don each a pair
of men's boots, in order to pass the
bridge over the brook, and the next
day, when uncle Stickney took his wife
and nvyself home, we were obliged to
scramble upon the sleigh seat, the water
poured so over the sides of the large,
high-backed sleigh.

The previous } r ear had been a sad
one to our family, and farther calamity
was in .store. In April, uncle William
Little's only child, a promising lad of
five j-ears, died suddenly of croup.
This was a severe affliction to the
parents ; the father for a time was
nearly frantic. The first shock of the
loss had scarcely passed, when David
Eaton, one of Uncle Bill's apprentices
was taken sick with the measles. None
of the family had had the distemper,
every one caught it. Aunt Sukey and
Nabby Smith were sick at the same
time, and, as I had had the measles, I
was obliged to act as nurse. My pa-
tients were quite sick, Nabby was in-
sane for twenty-four hours. Uncle
Bill's family were all ill one after anoth-

er. Aunt Little was very sick, fever
set in and for several days she was not
expected to live. Naturally a delicate
woman, it took a long while for nature
to rally, and she remained an invalid
through the summer. Just as Aunt
Little's fever was at its height, the
news came that Aunt Bartlett was dan-
gerously sick. Grandmam' Little and
my mother hurried to town, but, under
Divine Providence, with good nursing,
her life was spared.

Uncle Stickney had not recovered
from the effects of his fall, as had been
anticipated. He took cold while fish-
ing ; a cough came on, and, instead of
gaining health as the warm weather ad-
vanced, day by day he lost both flesh
and vigor. Help was hired to do his
work upon the farm, and the most se-
rious apprehensions began to be enter-
tained.

With my multifarious duties, I had
contrived to plait a new straw bonnet
for myself. Aunt Sarah assisted me
to make common hats for father and the
boys. We also fashioned a cunning
bonnet for my little sister Susan to wear
upon her first advent at meeting. Upon
sight of this head gear, little Joe de-
manded a Sunday straw hat. Aunt
Sarah said that was a good idea. I
plaited a fine braid ; the hat was made
and lined with green silk. Jim thought
he should like one, only the braid might
be coarser. When father saw this hat.
he asked us to make one for him, the
light hat was ' ' so comfortable in warm
weather." The gentlemen and }-outh
of the neighborhood and vicinity, see-
ing and liking these hats, came to so-
licit us to braid some for them. In a
short time quite a lucrative business
was established. In the midst of the
hurry, one of our cousins, Patty Noyes,

REMINISCENCES

came in, to beg us to braid her a bon-
net; she "must have one for the very
next Sunday." "That is an impossi-
bility." "Then sew one from this!"
she exclaimed, seizing a roll of the hat
braid. ' ' That is too coarse." ' ' That
is a matter of taste," she returned ;
"if I have a coarse straw it may set
the fashion. Just sew the braid as I
direct."

Remonstrance was useless. The bon-
net was sewed. It looked very well,
and when trimmed was really pretty.
Patty's joke proved a prophecy, she
did set a fashion. Orders came for
several similar bonnets. This extra
straw work brought a great hurry in
the autumn. I was looking forward
to a little more leisure in the winter
weather, when I was summoned to the
Dole place, where with slight intervals
I remained for several months. Our
worst fears were realized. Uncle Stick-
ney was in a confirmed consumption.
Aunt Hannah, feeble from a recent
confinement, and worn down by anxie-
ty, watching, and the care of a sickly,
puny babe, needed my assistance. The
last of December the feeble, wailing in-
fant passed from our tearful care to
the arms of the heavenly angels. This
was m}' first experience of the death
of a babe, and under the circumstan-
ces I felt that it was not a subject for
grief, but a beneficent event to both
mother and child. Aunt Hannah seem-
ed stunned. She moved about her hus-
band's death-bed like one in a trance.
The brothers and sisters Dole were agon-
ized at the thought of the loss of their
adopted son ; they could not be talked
or prayed into submission. "It was
hard ; oh, so hard, to see that strong,
handsome form so fast succumbing to dis-
ease." Robert Adams had always been

delicate ; his illness was more gradual ;
sad as it was it did not seem so heart-
rending as this. Assistance and sym-
pathy were tendered from all quarters,
still it was a dark, dark time ! Aunt
Sukey, naturally of a less buoyant tem-
perament than her sisters, sank into a
morbid melancholy, distressing herself
with doubts of her late husband's state
in the other world, as he had made no
death-bed confession. Uncle Sam
Smith's visit brought comfort and hope.
He cheered aunt Sukey and brought a
peaceful submission to the death-strick-
en household of our neighbors. We
began to feel that, though he might not
attain to a great worldly wealth, he
possessed that pearl of great price,
that true riches, before which mere
earthly treasures sink into insignifi-
cance.

In April, Uncle Stickney left us.
His exit had been calm and hopeful.
A degree of submission had been at-
tained by those nearest and dearest,
and Aunt Hannah returned to the old
life, (yet, alas ! how sadly different) , in
the paternal home, bereft of both hus-
band and child in little over one short
year, a childless widow ere she had
reached the age of twenty-one.

CHAPTER XIX.

A quantity of straw had been stored
the summer before ; this spring, orders
for bonnets and hats came as fast as
the}" could be filled.

As I have stated, Uncle Thurrel's
only daughter had married Mr. Jona-
than Smith, the son of the Rev. Dr.
Smith, the first Baptist clergyman in

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

Haverhill. Mr. Smith kept a store in
that town. Straw bonnets were be-
coming so fashionable, Mrs. Smith con-
ceived the idea of our supplying the
sale at her husband's establishment.
Hitherto our bonnets had remained the
natural color of the straw. Straw
work had been commenced in Provi-
dence, and through some relatives there,
Mrs. Smith learned the process of
bleaching. We were greatly pleased to
become initiated into the mystery, and
with her native ingenuity, Aunt Sarah
contrived a bleacher}*. Holes were
bored in the head of a barrel, strings
were attached to the bonnets and passed
up through the apertures, which were
then plugged with wooden spiles ; sul-
phur sprinkled over embers put in the
dish of a foot-stove was placed be-
neath ; the whole being tightened by an
old quilt, not a fume escaped, and the
bonnets came forth as white as the im-
ported. To this period the braid had
been plaited from whole straw; this
year the split straws began to come,
and Aunt Sarah finding that she could
split straw with a coarse comb, conclu-
ded to have some combs made for the
purpose. Comb making had been an
industry of the town since its first set-
tlement. Mr. Enoch Noyes, my grand-
mother Smith's nephew, had become
noted for the manufacture of combs
and horn buttons. He was a great ge-
nius, had contrived many inventions
and made much improvement in the
business. During the Revolutionary
war, a Hessian deserter, an adept in
the craft, had chanced to drift into the
place and was at once employed by Mr.
Noyes, much to the advantage of the
trade, which immediately increased in
extent and importance. Mr. No} r es
was a great oddity. He would run

half over the parish bareheaded and
barefooted. It was no uncommon
thing for him to appear at our house,
after 'dinner of a hot summer day, in
only a shirt and breeches, having run
across the fields two miles, "jest to
take a nooning." A great joker and a
capital story-teller, his appearance was
the signal for a general frolic. He was
fond of telling strangers that his father
used to say he had "four remarkable
children : Molly was remarkably hand-
some, Tim was a remarkable sloven,
John was remarkably wicked, and
Enoch was remarkably cunning." To
this gentleman aunt Sarah applied. As
might have been expected, he entered
into the business with characteristic
zest, and in a short time we were sup-
plied with half a dozen different-sized
straw splitters.

Mrs. Smith, having cut a tin}" piece
of trimming from an imported bon-
net, brought it for me to imitate.
How vividly I recall the two long hours
which I passed, sitting on the chamber
floor surrounded by the litter of straw,
patiently weaving and unweaving until
the secret 'was obtained. Having ac-
quired this ornamental cue, I invented
several other decorations with which to
finish the edge of the bonnets. I also
learned to make straw plumes and tas-
sels from examining those on the for-
eign bonnets. Miss Mar}- Perkins kept
a fashionable millinery establishment
in Newburyport. Hearing of our straw
manufacture she rode up to see us and
immediately ordered bonnets. After a
time the plain straw became supersed-
ed by diamond and other fancy plaits.
These being the ton, Miss Jenkins also
purloined a bit from the inside of a
diamond satin straw, and brought it as
a pattern of a braid. It looked so in-

REMINISCENCES

tricate I nearly despaired of 1113- ability^
to copy it, but Miss Jenkins would
not permit me to demur, and as every
one spoke encouragingby I made the
effort, and in two or three hours ac-
complished the task. This was a time-
ly achievement ; our bonnets were in
great demand, and we continued the
business through the warm season for
several 3'ears until the establishment of
straw factories and ury approaching
marriage curtailed the work ; but aunt
Sarah continued to braid men's hats
and supply her friends' bonnets for a
long time.

The year I was seven years old the
first incorporated woolen mill in Mas-
sachusetts was established at the falls
on the river Parker, in the Parish of
Byfield in Newbury. The machinery
for this factory was made in Xewbury-
port by Messrs. Standring, Armstrong
& Guppy, agents ; the Messrs. Schol-
field and most of the operatives were
English. The erection of this mill cre-
ated a great sensation throughout the
whole region. People visited it from
far and near. Ten cents was charged
as an admittance fee. That first win-
ter sleighing parties came from all the
adjacent towns, and as distant as
Hampstead and Deny, in New Hamp-
shire. Row after row of sleighs passed
over Crane-neck hill, enlivening the
bright, cold days by the joyous tones
of their merry bells. Never shall I
forget the awe with which I entered
what then appeared the vast and im-
posing edifice. The huge drums that
carried the bands on the lower floor,
coupled with the novel noise and hum
increased this awe ; but when I reached
the second floor where picking, card-
ing, spinning and weaving were in pro-
gress my amazement became complete.

The machinery, with the exception of
the looms, was driven by water pow-
er, the weaving was by hand. Most
of the operatives were males, a few
young girls being employed in splicing
rolls.

In a few years the first company was
dissolved, and the mill passed into oth-
er hands. The Scholfields were suc-
ceeded by Messrs. Lees & Ta^'lor.
These gentlemen were also English.
New machinery imported from Eng-
land for the manufacture of cotton
goods was put in. Mr. Ta}'lor soon
left, but Mr. Lees continued to operate
the mill for several years. The estab-
lishment of this factory brought quite
a revolution in the domestic manufac-
tures of the neighborhood. For some
time previous, in most families hand
carding had been discontinued, the
wool having been sent to be converted
into rolls to the clothier mills of Mr.
Ben. Pearson or Mr. Samuel Dummer.
Lees & Ta3'lor made arrangements b3"
which this famuy carding could be done
at their factoty both cheaper and better
than at the smaller mills. The intro-
duction of cotton opened a new channel
of industry. The weaving was still
performed by hand ; as the business
increased this loom power was not suf-
ficient to supply the demand for cloths.
Their goods consisted of heaAy tick-
ings and a lighter cloth of blue and
white striped or checked, suitable for
men's and boys' summer wear, aprons,
&c. The tickings were woven b3 r men
on the looms at the factory, but much
of the lighter stuffs were taken into
families and woven on the common
house loom. The 3-arns were spun and
dyed at the factory; these could be
purchased there, and in lieu of the
hitherto universal linen and tow, cotton

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

began to be mixed with flax or woven
alone. Quite fine cotton fabrics were
woven ; bleached they looked very nice.
Stamps on blocks of wood had been
invented, and with home-made dyes,
calico was stamped. These chintzes
were held in high estimation and many
' go-to-meeting gowns" were construct-
of them, pieces of which have been
handed down, to be cherished as inesti-
mable relics of a former generation.
This cotton spinning brought a new oc-
cupation to the place. Being prior to
Whitney's invention of the cotton gin,
the material came just as it had been
gathered from the field, and many of
the females in the neighborhood of the
factory were employed to separate the
seed from the cotton. For years one
rarely entered a farm house in the
vicinity without finding one or more of
the inmates busy picking cotton.

A short time prior to the erection- of
the Byfield factory, Jacob Perkins, the
distinguished inventor and the first en-
graver of bank bills, completed the
construction of his first machine for
cutting nails. Hitherto every nail in
use had been wrought by hand, and
this machine became immediately an
object of interest, as the community at
once perceived its value, and justly
took pride in their gifted townsman.
Mr. Perkins having hired the old mill
house of Capt. Paul Moody in Byfield,
commenced business on the same dam
as the Factory. This nail factory con-
tinued in operation some years, then,
as Amesbury presented greater facili-
ties for their manufacture, the business
was moved to that town. Mr. Perkins
discovered a process for plating shoe
buckles, then universally worn ; he
made improvements in fire engines and
hydraulic machines, and machines for

boring honey-combed cannon. He was
also the most skilful pyrotechnist in the
county. He also discovered a method
of softening and hardening steel, by
which the process of engravings was
greatly facilitated. The Bank of Eng-
land adopted it for their plates. He
invented the bathometer, an instrument
for measuring the depth of the sea by
the pressure of water ; and the pleo-
meter, which measured the rate of a
ship's sailing. He also demonstrated
the impressibility of water. Later in
life he went to London, where his ex-
periments on high pressure steam ma-
chinery attracted much attention. He
contrived a steam gun which could dis-
charge about a thousand balls a min-
ute. Experiments with this gun at-
tracted the attention of the Duke of
Wellington and other distinguished mil-
itary men. These inventions enriched
others, but Mr. Perkins died in Lon-
don in 1840 without the fortune tr
which, by his labors he was justly enti-
tled.

Mr. Eben Parsons, _ one of the sons
of the Rev. Moses Parsons, the second
pastor of the church in B} T field parish,
then an eminent merchant in Boston,
had purchased an estate contiguous to
the parsonage, where he had been born
and bred. Neither expense or labor
had been spared in improving and or-
namenting the grounds and garden of
this place, which its owner called the
" Fatherland Farm." Now prepara-
tion commenced for the erection of a
spacious mansion. Raisings at that
period were universally a social festi-
val, and this, from the superiority of
the building, the elegance of its sur-
roundings, and position of its owner,
became an extraordinary fete. Pre-
parations for the occasion were made
10

REMnsTISCENCES

upon a scale of unusual magnificence.
It was arranged that the Rev. Dr. Par-
ish should deliver an address, and a
consecrating hymn should be sung.
The choir in our parish were in Anted to
join that in Byfield in singing this
hymn. As the female singers were to
be habited in a uniform of white mus-
lin and bine satin, there was a great
stir of preparation, and the whole com-
munity was roused into a perfect tip-
toe of expectancy. The important
day at length arrived. Crowds in car-
riages, on horseback and on foot
thronged to the raising, which w;i- cur-
ly in the afternoon. Deft hands splen-
didly did the work : the stout timbers
of the spacious building were securely
upreared ; then the master builder, Mr.
Stephen Tappan of Xewburyport. ap-
peared on the summit, bottle in hand.
Amid profound silence, for a moment
he poised himself aloft, then swinging
the bottle above his head, with a cheer
which was caught up and iterated and
reiterated by the multitude, the new
roof-tree was duly baptized in pure old
Jamaica. The deafening cheers ended,
a platform was arranged over a part of
the floor timbers, to which mounted the
orator, singers and most noted guests.
The eloquent divine, inspired by the
scene and hour, did himself more than
justice, holding his entranced audience
in breathless attention for nearly an
hour by a perfect rush of eloquence.
Next the orchestra took their places.
A goodlie company, those stalwart
youths and buxom maidens. The bass-
viol struck the tune, and the united
voices floated forth on the still summer
air, and sang

" If God refuse the house to build
The workmen toil in vain.*'

A tremendous crash at this point

drowned the last note, and amid
screams, cries and shouts the crowd
upon the platform were hurled into the
cellar beneath, amidst earth, rubbish
and broken boards. For a moment
there was the wildest terror and confu-
sion. It was some time ere the sem-
blance of order could be restored, or
the extent of injury ascertained. Hap-
pily no bones were broken, but there
were numerous sprains and contusions.
The white muslins were sadly rent and
torn, but after repairing damages a de-
gree of equanimity was restored and
the sumptuous entertainment was serv-
ed. This was followed by various
pastimes, wrestling, running and oth-
er athletic sports. It was dark before
the crowd dispersed, and the great
raising formed a topic of conversation
for months. Most dire calamities were
prognosticated from the accident, by
the- superstitious. Fatal prophecies
foredooming the future of the family at
" Fatherland mansion."

Aunt Judy Dole was vehement in
her diatribes. A nephew, Mr. Benja-
min Wadleigh, who had taken the place
of the late James Stickney in the
household, received a severe sprain in
his shoulder, which incapacitated him
from labor for some time. "And serv-
ed him right," the old woman exclaim-
ed in her most oracular manner. "He'd
better have staid at home and minded
his business than hyty-titying over to
Byfield to sing psalm tunes at such a
frolic, and to that great popish stringed
instrument of Baal, too. Sposin' old
parson Moses Parsons' son was gwiue
to build a house ; because it was bigger
than common he needn't make such a
fuss, other folks had built big houses.
The saying was, destruction went afore
a fall ; she guessed destruction would

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

come arter, this time. She hoped it
would 1'arn the young folks sense,
show 'em taint all gold that glittered."

CHAPTER XIX.

Turnpikes were superseding the
common roads on the more important
routes of travel, and one was projected
between Newburyport and Boston. A
company was formed, the shares sold
and the work commenced. The con-
struction of this road caused consider-
ble excitement in the communfty.
Most were enthusiastic in its favor,
while others thought the additional con-
venience insufficient to repay such an
outlay. As several of our family were
stockholders, and David Emery assisted
on the survey, we were especially in-
terested. David often passed the Sab-
bath at his grandfather Little's, and he
usually dropped in to talk over the
work with father. He disapproved of
the plan of the road thought it would
have been better to have built it to Sa-
lem, to connect with that from Salem
to Boston. Then he did not favor an
exactly straight thoroughfare if it must
be carried over wide morasses and such
lofty eminences as the Topsfield hills.
Though then a mere youth, I think the
verdict of posterity would endorse the
young man's ideas. Through the un-
counted multitude of obstacles that
usually arise to impede a public work,
the road was steadily pushed with re-
markable energy. Huge hotels and
spacious stables were erected at points
convenient for relays, and every then
modern improvement made for the ac-
commodation of travel. At the time

of my first visit to town only one stage
plied on alternate days between New-
bun port and the capital going one
morning and returning the next after-
noon. I well remember my first sight
of a stage and the delight with which
I gazed at the huge leathern convey-
ance, with its gaudily emblazoned yel-
low body and the four prancing white
steeds. Soon after rela} r s were estab-
lished and the stage went out and re-
turned each day. As the travel in-
creased teams were added and the
Eastern Stage Company was formed.

On account of ill health, Col. Stephen
Bartlett had severed his connection with
the firm of Peabody & Waterman.
Confirmed consumptionjiad been feared
but after a winter passed in Charleston,
S. C., Col. Bartlett returned with in-
creased vigor. Active occupation was
recommended. The stage company
were seeking an agent. The position
was offered to Mr. Bartlett, and he im-
mediately entered upon its duties. This
appointment was eminently appropriate,
and the gentleman remained in the em-
ploy of the compaivy until obliged to
surrender to the ravages of the fell dis-
ease which at last claimed him as its
victim. One afternoon, the summer I
was sixteen, I rode into town and had
just entered aunt Bartlett's parlor when
uncle Bartlett drove to the door, on the
box of a hack in which were seated my
aunt Peabody and cousin Sophronia.
Reining up his pair of spanking bays
before the open window, he greet-
ed me : "I am glad to see you, Sally.
Put on your bonnet and tell your aunt
to don hers, and I will give you a ride
with Mrs. Peabody and Fronie. The
turnpike is graded to the third mile-
stone, and I intend that you shall have
the honor of being the first ladies to

REMINISCENCES

pass over it." Of course I was high-
ly delighted. We were soon seated.
My aunts and cousin were in high
spirits, and altogether it was a very
merry time. There was a little stir of
enthusiasm amid the group lingering
about the steps of the "Wolfe Tavern,"
and we received many polite greetings
as we drove forward. It was rather
soft wheeling over the freshly-strewn
gravel, but that did not signify ; our
horses were young and strong, their
load light, and we dashed forward in
fine style. The third milestone soon
appeared. After a slight pause to look
around, we retraced our steps and
alighted at aunt Bartlett's, proud of the
achievement of being able to boast that
we were the first ladies to ride over the
Newburyport and Boston turnpike.

The next year I had another ride
with my uncle. The Plum Island
bridge and turnpike had been built the
previous summer. I was making my
annual winter visit in town. That da}'
I had dined at my uncle Peabod3*'s, and
we were rising from the table, when
uncle Bartlett drove to the door in a
double sleigh, to which was attached a
splendid span of white horses. He
was accompanied by Capt. Stoodle}-, a
brother of Mrs. William Bartlett, jr., of
Portsmouth, N. H. Throwing him the
reins, uncle Bartlett ran in, exclaiming :
" Come, girls ; I have a pair of horses
that I wish to prove, and I will give
you a ride. Wrap up well, fo/ it is a
snapping cold day." Aunt Peabody
told us to hasten. "Put on all your
furs," she added, as she filled a stove
for our feet. We were quickly en-
sconced on the back seat, well wrapped
in buffaloes. Uncle Bartlett turned his
horses toward Plum Island. There was
not much path, but the powerful steeds

dashed lightly along. We had pro-
ceeded to the entrance to the bridge.
when our further progress was stopped
by a huge snow drift. With some diffi-
culty our experienced whip turned his
team. Proceeding in the direction of
' ' High street " we soon reached that
well-trodden thoroughfare. Though
much more sparsely built than now, it
was a handsome avenue and a pleasant
drive.

In my childhood Frog pond was the
center of a tangled wilderness of alder
and other bushes, and at the upper end
there was a frightful ravine. Near this
gully stood the gun house, where the
cannon belonging to the artillery corn-
pan}' was kept. Back on the heights
stood an ancient windmill. Below, near
the margin of the pond, stretched a
long rope walk. This was removed to
give place for the commencement of the
turnpike. Back of the pond was lo-
cated quite an extensive potteiy for the
manufacture of brown glazed earthern
ware. In the year commencing the
present century the streets of the town
received much improvement, and in the
summer of that year the gulley at the
head of Green street was filled up, and
the mall was laid out, graded and railed.
Capt. Edmund Bartlett gave fourteen
hundred dollars towards this public im-
provement, which cost about eighteen
hundred. In honor of this munificence,
the park received the name of ' Bartlett
Mall."

In the summer of 1805 the Court
house was erected. The building was
ornamented by the figure of Justice
holding a scale and sword, which sur-
mounted the pedestal. St. Paul's
Church was built that same year, and
within a short period several handsome
private residences had also been erect-

OF A

ed, adding much to the beauty of the
street. Dexter had increased his im-
ages ; his plan was in full glory ; Sen-
tinals mounted guard. Jefferson had
joined Washington and Adams over the
front entrance. Beneath the Presi-
dents was a bass-relief of the Goddess
of Liberty. An half hour's ride
brought us to Parsons' tavern on Deer
island, at the Essex Merrimac bridge.
This was a noted place for pleasure
parties. A delightful spot in summer,
and a noted rendezvous for sleighing
parties in winter, when a supper and
dance were enjoyed. At the first snow
a rush was made for Parsons', where
the first comer was treated to a bottle
of wine by mine host. Though our
horses had skimmed over the snow like
birds, the day was so intensely cold we
were fairly benumbed, and the bright
wood fire was exceedingly grateful.
Capt. Stdooley, according to the custom
of the period, politely brought my
cousin and myself a glass of wine.
Warmed and refreshed we retraced our
steps, fully . satisfied with the steed,
which Col. Bartlett immediately secur-
ed for the " Stage Company."

Two other memorable rides fell to
my destiny that year. Toward spring
father's ox-cart needed new tires.
Much to his surprise none could be
found in Newburyport. Some one di-
rected him to the store of old Mr. Da-
vid Howe, in Haverhill, where it was
said " every merchantable article could
be bought." As aunt Chase resided in
Haverhill, father invited me to ride
with him. It was a raw March morn-
ing and the sleighing poor. Making
our way partly in the fields and pas-
tures, partly in the road, we reached
" Cottle's Ferry;" there we took the
river. The ice was strong but full of

seams made by cracks which had been
frozen. Our horse, a spirited mare,
feared danger, and as she reached one
of these seams, with a leap would
bound over it, then proceed at a two-
forty-pace to the next ; then came an-
other bound, and in this way the jour-
ney was made.

My aunt resided in a large, old-fash-
ioned brick mansion, picturesquely sit-
uated on the right bank of the Merri-
mac, about half a mile below Haver-
hill village. The road separated it
from the river, and in front a landing
led directly to the house. Leaving me
at the door father drove to the village,
where he procured iron which he lashed
under the sleigh. Having dined at
Mrs. Chase's we started for home.
The rattling of the iron started Kate
still more, and the race was greater
than in the morning. I never was
more thankful than when the Ferry
was again reached, and we were once
more on terra firma.

My other race was in the autumn.
It was customary for the } r oung ladies
of the neighborhood to give social tea
parties of an afternoon, at which we
assembled at an early hour, dressed in
our best, with our go-abroad knitting
work, usually fine cotton, clocked hose.
Some of these clocks comprised the
most elaborate patterns. After tea
the knitting was laid aside. As the
evening drew on the beaux began to
appear, then games, or dancing, were
enjoyed. At this period the fear of
Parson Wood's anathema had in a
measure passed and dancing had been
generally resumed. We were permit-
ted to indulge in the recreation at my
uncle Tenney's when the deacon was
from home.

Mr. Benjamin Hill's son, Eliphalet,

REMINISCENCES

had become affianced to Miss Sarah
Coffin, of "Scotland," Oldtown parish.
The young lady had come to paj- Mr.
Hill's family a visit, and the Misses
Hills gave one of these tea-parties in
her honor. Mr. Hill's residence was
two miles from ours, and father direct-
ed me to go in the chaise. "Liph.
Hills will take care of your horse, Sal-
lie, and you can take up the deacon's
girls as }*ou go," said he, as he went
out, after dinner. We had recently
purchased a new ' ' fall back chaise ; "
our old one had been a square-topped.
I was somewhat proud of the new
equipage, and of my spirited mare.
Trained from infancy to ride and drive,
I was a fearless horsewoman. Jim
harnessed Kate, and I drove over to
uncle Tenney's, where I was joined by
my cousins Joan and Lydia. The' af-
ternoon and evening were passed most
pleasantly. I recollect leading down a
new contra figure with my second cous-
in, Billy Noyes, who was a capital
dancer we two usually headed the
set. Fun and frolic ruled the hour till
after nine o'clock, when my horse was
brought to the door. There were other
vehicles, and gentlemen's and ladies'
saddle horses, awaiting. My cousins
and I sprang into our chaise and I
drove forward. We had reached the
summit of Plummer's hill when Kate
began to prick up her ears and, with a
sniff, to gather in her paces. The clat-
ter of approaching hoofs struck my
ear, and. before I could realize the sit-
uation, William Thurrell and my cousin
William Smith rushed past on horse-
back, the horses going at the top of
their speed. One took the right, the
other the left of my chaise. As they
swept past, Kate gave a snort and,
springing forward, joined in the race.

Down we went, at a break-neck speed,
down the steep declivity, the loose
stones of the rough road frying in every
direction. As the horse was beyond
my control, all I could do was to hold
the reins as tightly as possible, but, as
they were new, I felt secure. On we
dashed, through "Tea street." It was
impossible for me to turn to take my
cousins home, nor could I stop until the
schoolhouse was reached. Here my
companions were able to alight, but
were obliged to walk back about half a
mile, while I proceeded up Crane-neck
hill at a more leisurely pace. The
3~oung men were somewhat frightened
at the escapade, but. upon the whole,
enjoyed it vastly, declaring, much to
rny vexation, that "little Sally Smith
can beat the best jockey in the whole
country around."

CHAPTER XX.

In contradistinction to the church
from which they had separated, our
forefathers had established a severe
simplicity in public worship, which, as
the country grew older, and society in-
creased in liberality and culture, became
distasteful to the more }*outhful portion
of the population. Deaconing hymns
had become nearly obsolete, and musi-
cal instruments began to appear in the
singing seats.

Though severe and strict in theologi-
cal dogmas, Parson Woods was. upon
the whole, a progressive man. Through
his influence our choir had greatly im-
proved in singing, and when it was pro-
posed to have a viol accompaniment, he
made no objection. Accordingly, one

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

fine summer morning, Mr. Ben. Brown,
with an important air, marched up the
gallery stairs, bearing his bass-viol in
his hand. There was a sensational stir
throughout the singing seats. Mr. Ed-
mund Little tiptoed to and fro. There
were nods and whispers, shuffling of
the leaves of singing books ; then came
the prelirninan- screams, screeches,
grunts, growls, sees and saws from the
viol. While this was proceeding, the
faces of the congregation were a study
worthy of a Hogarth. Amazement sub-
sided into curiosity ; the younger por-
tion sat in smiling expectanc}-, while
their elders glanced at one another, dis-
approval written in every wrinkle of
their sour visages, and the children
gazed with wide open eyes and open-
mouthed astonishment. At the first in-
timation of the idea of having this in-
strumental accompaniment, aunt Judy
Dole had entered her vehement protest
against it. She and her sisters occu-
pied seats upon the women's bench in
the gallery. At the first sight of Mr.
Brown, the old ladj-'s face grew rigid ;
stern determination and severe disap-
proval became legible in every line.
Parson Woods and his family came in,
and the usual masculine rush followed ;
the last loiterer had become seated and
the last pew door had been slammed.
Parson Woods, as was customary,
opened the service with a short prayer ;
then the hymn was named and read,
and the choir arose, in rustling impor-
tance. Mr. Brown, with the air of an
emperor, drew his bow across the
strings. At the first sound, up jumped
aunt Judy, and. with indignant opposi-
tion in ever} 1 creak of the high-heeled
channeled pumps, she firmly strode
through the galleiy and down the stairs,
then, passing out at the front door,

seated herself on the horse-block, re-
maining there during the service. At
its close she rode home with the rest of
the family, but it was a long time ere
the prim maiden became sufficiently
reconciled to the new fashion to appear
in her wonted place on the Sabbath.

The second year of her widowhood,
aunt Hannah Stickney married Mr.
Samuel Noyes, of the " Farms," New-
bury. This gentlemen, a descendant
of John,*oldest son of Nicholas Noves,
a widower with four children, was a
cousin of her first husband. Many
wondered that so young a women as
aunt Hannah should feel willing to as-
sume the responsibility of rearing and
training so many small children . Though
the young widow had returned to her
father's house, she could not make it
the girlish home which she had left with
a heart so full of buoyant hope. Mr.
Noyes had been most kind in his minis-
trations during Mr. Stickney's illness,
upbearing the fainting souls of the sick
man and his family, by his firm faith, and
devotional spirit. Through every trial
he had been a v true comforter to Mrs.
Stickney, thereby winning her gratitude
and affectionate interest. This* good
man needed a wife, his children needed
a mother, she could supply this need.
Cheerfully and lovingly her life's work
was assumed. How well this task was
performed, the reverent respect and
love of her family attested. To no one
could more properly be applied the scrip-
ture text, "Her children rise up and
call her blessed ; her husband also, and
he praiseth her." The second nuptials
were strictly private, the ceremony be-
ing performed at the residence of the
Rev. Dr. Parish, in Byfield. The little,
black doctor, greatly diverted one of
his favorite parishioners, Mrs. Moses

REMINISCENCES

Colman, by the information that the
day previous he had married the hand-
somest woman he ever saw, to Mr. Sam
Noyes. " Such black eyes, Mrs. Col-
man, such a complexion, and such a
sweet j'et sparkling expression. Oh,
she is a beaut)', Mrs. Colman ! I have
thought you as handsome as any woman
I ever saw, but this one is handsomer ;
ves," musingly added the divine, as he
leaned back in his chair and critically
examined his companion's fac3 through
half closed ej*es, "yes, Mrs. Colman, I
must decide that of the two she is the
handsomest."

Much amused, Mrs Colman inquired
the beauty's name.

' ' Hannah Stickney ; her maiden
name was Little."

' ' Why Doctor, she is my own cous-
in," the lady replied with surprise.

"Well, you may be proud of your
cousin, Mrs. Colman, and I must say
your famil)' may be proud of them-
selves. Such a splendid set of black-
e) T ed queens ! Why they are positively
regal ! Yes, yes, positively regal ! "
This was too good to be kept private,
and the black-eyed queens were duly
informed ot the distinguished doctor's
tribute to their lovliness.

The prostration of grief at length
passed, and aunt Adams began to take
her wonted interest in the cares and
duties of life. As the house was in-
convenient for two families, the second
year of her widowhood Mrs. Adams
took the farm into her own manage-
ment. Mr. Adams had built a shoe-
maker's shop when he first took posses-
sion of the premises. This was hired
by two or three young men, former ap-
prentices of uncle Bill Little. Having
come of age, they commenced business
for themselves, boarding with aunt

Adams, Nabby Smith still being re-
tained as an assistant.

As soon as aunt Hannah had become
established in her new home, aunt
Adams and myself were invited to pa)-
her a visit. Accordingly, one warm
August morning, we set out. We took
aunt Adams' chaise and our horse.
We had passed the factory and were
approaching the "Fatherland Farm,"
when the pin broke and the right wheel
dropped. Luckily, the horse stopped
instantly, and I sprang out and held
her head while aunt Adams could
alight. What next was to be done?
Looking around, I espied Mr. Gorham
Parsons and some workmen in an adja-
cent field. I started to gain their as-
sistance, but Mr. Parsons, perceiving
our dilemma, came forward to meet me,
accompanied by one of the men, who
proved to be Joe Gould, who was often
employed at our farm. Gould took the
chaise to Mr. Moses Dole's blacksmith
shop, which was a short distance be-
3 T ond, and Mr. Parsons escorted aunt
Adams and myself to the house, which
was now finished and furnished in great
elegance, being the most imposing man-
sion in the vicinity ; with its well-or-
dered stables and other appointments,
forming an establishment of which the
proprietor might well be proud. The
housekeeper, Mrs. Plummer, was called,
and we were shown into a parlor. A
bell rang above stairs, succeeded by
much running to and fro. Xext a ne-
gro page flung wide the door, and, with
a profound obeisance, ushered in Mr.
Parsons, supporting on his arm a stout,
florid-complexioned woman, habited in
a white dimity wrapper, her head
adorned by a crape turban. {surmounting
a frisette of light curls ; her gouty feet,
encased in velvet slippers, were still

OF A

further assisted by a gold-headed cane.
This lady, Madame Eben Parsons, Mr.
Gorham Parsons' mother, was followed
by Mrs. Plummer, bearing a fan and
scent-bottle, while the rear of the pro-
cession was brought up by a young
waiting maid, loaded with a footstool,
shawl and cushions.

The ceremony of introduction over,
after much fixing and fussing, chang-
ing from one window to another, ar-
ranging and rearranging of footstool
and cushions, Madame Parsons at
length became seated and at leisure to
turn her attention to her visitors. She
expressed delight on learning that we
were relatives of her friend Mrs. Moses
Colman, of whom she spoke in the
highest terms. Her sons also received
the meed of praise. As they often
went on business between the " Fath-
erland Farm " and Mr. Parsons's es-
tate in Brighton, the lady had made
their acquaintance.

I well remembered David Emery's
first visit to Boston, then a lad of
twelve, a most remarkable event it
then seemed to me, a ten year old girl.
How eagerly I listened to every minu-
tae of the tour which was made in com-
pany with his elder brother, Jeremiah
Colman. They took two pigs of the
famous "B} T field" breed from the
" Fatherland Farm" to Brighton, in a
spring cart, drawn by a favorite family
mare named Dorcas. The journey was
made in one day, and they returned on
the next. The night was passed at
the residence of Mr. Eben Parsons in
Boston. This was an ancient structure
on Summer street. A flight of steps
led directly from the sidewalk to the
front door which opened into a square
hall that was used as a parlor ; in the
rear, stood a large stable, and in front

stretched a common upon which Mr.
Parsons's two cows were pastured.

Cake and wine served we were invit-
ed into the garden, which lying on a
gentle declivity was laid out in terra-
ces, the walks bordered by trim hedges
of box. There was a variety of choice
flowers and fruit. Having been regaled
with fine specimens of early pears and
each presented with a magnificent bou-
quet ; as our chaise had arrived, neatly
repaired, we made our adieus amid mu-
tual compliments and hopes of contin-
uing our acquaintance thus accidentally
formed. A few moments' ride brought
us to " Dummer Academy," the Gov.
Dummer Mansion House, the same fine
specimen of colonial architecture it is
to-day. The Academj- was the old
building, a gambrel-roofed, one-story
structure with a low, dome-capped
belfry facing the highway. This, the
" Alma Mater" of David Emery, the
Colman boys and other youthful
friends, was to me a spot of much in-
terest.

Crossing the bridge over the river
Parker we soon found ourselves in the
precincts of the "Farms." As Aunt
Adams wished to call upon relatives of
her late husband, we stopped at the
residence of Mr. Israel and the widow
Liffe Adams. We found Mr. and Mrs.
Israel Adams seated either side of the
wide fire-place, in which smouldered a
few embers. Their daughter Polly was
knitting by the window. She expressed
reat pleasure at seeing us, and as she
had been a favorite schoolmate of Da-
vid Emery's, and I had often heard him
speak of her, I was happy to make the
acquaintance of the belle and heiress of
the neighborhood. Mrs. Liflfe Adams
and her daughter Eunice were weaving
in a shop contiguous. Polly having

REMESriSOKPTCES

summoned them to the house, a great
rejoicing ensued. They were delighted
to see their nephew's widow, and I was
warmly welcomed. They all spoke
with the greatest satisfaction of Mr.
Noyes' good fortune in securing Aunt
Hannah for a wife. After a pleasant
call we took leave with a promise to
take tea with them on the next after-
noon. A few moments brought us to
the Noyes homestead, a large, square
house, surrounded by barns and other
farm buildings. Maj. Noyes occupied
the lower, and his son the upper half.
I knocked at the front door, but as no
one came I stepped into the hall ; as
my knock was evidently unheard, I
made my way through a back room to
the long kitchen and there I found the
senior Mrs. Noyes. The old lady was
washing the large hearth, exhibiting in
the process an excess of neatness,
which I never saw either before or since.
She had gathered the remnants of the
morning fire on a shovel and was wash-
ing ever}- brick. I quite startled the
good woman, but upon her learning who
I was, and that Aunt Adams was wait-
ing outside, she expressed much joy at
our coming, and despatched the maid
servant for Aunt Hannah, who was in
the garden. My aunt came with all
speed. As we were the first members
of her family that she had seen since
her marriage, her greeting was very
cordial. The male members of her
family were in the meadows, the chil-
dren at school ; as the school-house
was at some distance they dined at their
uncle Nat Moody's, whose residence
was near to it, consequently we had a
nice, easy tune, all to ourselves. In
the afternoon, Grandmam' Noyes and
Miss Becky, a single daughter, joined
us in Aunt Hannah's room. Between

five and six the children came home, a
nice girl of ten, quite a little "help"
to her step-mother, and two bright
boys, whose affections she had evident-

won. At dusk the " men folks " ar-
rived. The two gentlemen expressed
great pleasure at meeting us. The ma-
jor, a gallant man of the old school,
like his son and the Rev Dr. Parish,
was a great admirer of black eyes. He
was pleased to be exceedingly compli-
mentary, I saw that Aunt Hannah was
a favorite with the old gentleman, as
she evidently had become with the
whole family. After tea, as it was a
bright moonlight evening, we walked
out to the family burial place, which
was situated on a slight eminence in a
pleasant grove back of the house.

The next afternoon, accompanied by
aunt Hannah and Miss Becky Noyes,
we paid the proposed visit to the
Adams family. We enjoyed their
compam', and were most hospitably en-
tertained. At tea we were joined by
Mrs. Liffe Adams' son, Robert, a bash-
ful and eccentric stripling of eighteen.
Much to my amusement and that of
my two aunts, every endeavor was put
forth, by his mother and other relatives,
to render the young man companiona-
ble to me. Sly promptings were given
on every hand to induce him to show
his gallantry, but the poor youth was
sadly at a loss, completely discomfited.
Mrs. Adams, actirig, perhaps, upon the
principle that children left alone the
better facilitate their acquaintance, after
tea took the others to look at her cheese.
Poor Robert, thus cast upon his own
resources, did his best at being agreea-
ble, but his efforts were so ludicrous
that, after a vain endeavor to maintain
composure, I was obliged to rush into
the front yard, under the pretence of

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

looking at the sweet balm, but in real-
ity to suppress nry risibles. The rest
joined me, and, as aunt Adams thought
we had better return that night, we
soon took leave. A pleasant ride, with-
out any adventure, carried us home.
Our visit had been most satisfactory,
and we assured our friends that, how-
ever much others might doubt, we were
certain that aunt Hannah had not mis-
taken her vocation.

CHAPTER XXI.

Aunt 8us3 r Dole was a confirmed in-
valid, and sometimes had ill turns, when
a watcher was required. At the period
of Mr. Stickney's and the baby's ill-
ness I had been so much in the family,
that the sisters had been in the habit o'
sending for me at the slightest ailment.
One sultry, foggy night, the first of
September, a summons came to watch
with aunt Susy. Our straw work had
been unusually pressing, and I really
felt unable to sit up all night. Aunt
Sarah declared I should not go, " that
Susy Dole no more needed a watcher
than a cat needed two tails." Mother,
who always considered every one's com-
fort before her own, thought I had bet-
ter go. About eight o'clock I went.
I found the brothers and sisters seated
in the kitchen, the door being ajar into
the room where aunt Susy lay in bed.
After a little chat, a candle was placed
on the round stand, when uncle Amos
proceeded to read a chapter from the
Bible. The old gentleman was troub-
led with a cough ; he always kept a
mug of colts-foot tea handy on the
dresser. He would read a few verses

and stop to cough ; then taking a sip of
the tea he would proceed, and in this
way, the long chapter was at length fin-
ished. Then each rose and bowing
over their chair, reverently joined in
the long prayer, which, like the read-
ing, was frequently interrupted by
coughs and sips of the medicine. Un-
cle Amos would have been shocked at
anything that bordered on ritualism.
The bare mention of a liturg} r was
enough to raise the hair from his Brow,
yet, by custom, he had brought this
daily prayer into a set formula, which
scarcely varied from day to day. He
prayed for every body and every thing :
"The president, vice-president and
both houses of congress ; the^ govern-
or, the lieut. -governor, the clergy, the
colleges and schools ; the aged, infirm
and dying ; the pensioners, the poor
and afflicted ; travellers by land and
all those that go down to the sea in
ships." The length}- petition ended,
the family retired and I entered upon
my duty. Aunt Susy seemed very
comfortable, said " her abb tea was all
that she should need, but that must be
kept hot." I added a few sticks to the
smouldering fire, and placed a pewter
porringer of balm tea on the embers.
After inquiries respecting aunt Hannah
and her new home, the invalid fell
asleep. Screening the candle, I took
a pile of " Newburyport Heralds," (un-
cle Amos was a constant subscriber to
that paper) , and whiled away a couple
of hours ; then aunt Susy awoke and
demanded the tea ; to my chagrin it was
not warm enough to suit, and I was
compelled to reheat it. When it was
ready, my patient was again in sound
slumber. Fearing that she might
awake and ask for the tea, I kept up the
fire until the heat became intolerable.

EEMEN1SOENOE S

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I opened the
outer door, but was met by such a
swarm of mosquitos, engendered by the
vicinity of the pond, that it was instant-
ly closed. I returned to the bedroom
and sinking into aunt Susy's easy chair,
unintentionally dropped asleep. When
I awoke the room was pitchy dark, my
head was in a whirl and every limb
ached. I sprang for a candle, but was
so turned round by the sudden awaken-
ing it was difficult to find the table ; at
length the candle, a small dip with a
tow wick, was lightened, the fire re-
plenished, and much to my relief the
herb tea boiling when aunt Susy awoke.
It suited this time. Dawn began to
break, and aunt Judy relieved my vigil.
The sick woman bade me good morn-
ing, with many encomiums upon my
skill as a nurse, declared I had been
the best watcher she had had. I ar-
rived at home in time to assist in set-
ting off father and the boys, who were
going to Plum Island to rake the last
freight of hay for that season. It was
an exceedingly sultry morning, but
about eleven o'clock a thunder shower
came up, after which the wind changed
to north-east : a drenching rain set in
accompanied by a high wind, which, as
the afternoon advanced, grew into a
tremendous gale. We were much wor-
ried respecting father and the boys, as
they did not return, but concluded that
they had sought shelter at one of the
two farm houses at the lower end of the
island.

With some difficulty we managed to
get the cows and tie them up in the
barn. The milking and other chores
done, we tried to pass a cheerful even-
ing, but it did not avail, and a some-
what sleepless night followed. The
morning broke cloud}- and misty, but

the wind had subsided. The cows had
been put in a part of the field which
had been railed off for fall feed. The
bordering wall was lined by apple
trees ; so many apples had blown to
the ground we dared not turn the cows
to pasture till the}' were gathered. The
grass and apples were cold and wet,
and by the time I had finished picking
them, a tooth that had been troublesome
was aching excruciatingly. Father and
the boys returned that afternoon . They
had been subjected to a cold and wear-
isome experience. In company with
numbers of other haymakers, they had
received shelter at the "Cross Farm,"
and slept in the barn under an ox-cart.
Happy at their safe return, I ban-
daged my face and essayed to sleep.
It was useless. I tried cold water and
hot, cloves, ginger, poultices, and
everything that could be suggested, to
relieve the pain, but in vain ! Two de-
cayed teeth ached with an intolerable
persistency that no remedy would re-
lieve, and I came to the conclusion that
cold steel would be the only panacea.
Tired as he had been, I was in such
distress, my young brother Joseph
roused himself, and, after an early
breakfast, we set forth for Dr. Poore's
residence on the main road. The doc-
tor had gone into the pasture to fetch
his horse. Mrs. Poore, who was a fav-
orite cousin of my mother's, gave me a
most sympathetic welcome. "It was a
shame to lose two teeth ; could not
something be done to save them?"
Glad as I should have been to have ar-
rived at a contrary decision, I felt that
they must come out, and the doctor,
finding that the sight of him did not
scare away the pain, concurred in this
opinion. I was seated in an arm chair
in the centre of the room, and Mrs.

OF A NONAG-ENAIUAN'.

Poore was directed to hold my head.
A young lady school teacher, who was
a boarder in the family, took a stool,
and, placing it at my side, sat down to
watch the doctor and the gum. I
should have liked to have poked her
over, but as neither the doctor nor
Mrs. Poore entered any remonstrance
at what I deemed an impertinence, of
course I remained passive. At sight
of the cruel-looking, old-fashioned in-
struments, my little brother turned pale,
and I could not repress a shudder.
Mrs. Poore gave me a sympathetic hug,
and the doctor applied the cold steel.
The instrument was found to be too
large, and he proceeded to wind it with
his bandanna. I thought of the addic-
tion to snuff, but there was no time for
squeamishness. The instrument was
again on ; a jam, a screw, a twist, a
pull, and my molar new across the
room. The good doctor was triumph-
ant ' ' such a splendid pull ; I never
had better success ! "

My brother heaved a sigh of relief,
the school mistress settled herself for
another good look, kind Mrs. Poore
handed a glass of water, then again
pityingly took my head between her
hands. More trouble with the instru-
ment slipping, another jam, screw, and
a crash that I thought lifted my scalp,
and sent sparks flying from my eyes,
this second tooth was broken even with
the gum. After giving a few moments'
rest, the doctor proceeded to pry out
the root. He jammed and punched to
no purpose, until nature could bear no
more, and 1 sank back almost un-
conscious. My brother started up,
nearly upsetting the school teacher in
his eagerness, and vehemently protest-
ed against any further operation. Mrs.
Poore thought he was right, and the

doctor, somewhat reluctantly, desisted
from his efforts to extract the root.
It would "loosen and come out," he
thought, but he feared I would suffer
some time. I was too much exhausted
to think ; all I could do was to endure.
The horse had to walk the most of
the way home, as the least jar was ex-
cruciating. My face swelled fearfully,
and my neck and shoulders were so
stiff, I could not lie down for two or
three nights ; all the nourishment I
could take was at the corner of my
mouth from one of the old fashioned
tea spoons. Weeks passed ere I could
resume my wonted occupations. I had
not fully recovered at Thanksgiving.
As Nabby Smith had gone home and
aunt Adams felt blue alone, father took
me to pass the afternoon with her ; Da-
vid Emery had come to spend the fes-
tival at his grandfather's, and towards
night he and uncle Joe Little came in
with Lewis Hatch and William Smith ;
the two latter boarded with aunt Ad-
ams. The visitors received a cordial
greeting, and my aunt insisted that un-
cle Joe and David should remain to tea.
A merry time ensued ; David amused
us with the description of an adven-
ture that he had experienced that morn-
ing. In a hurry to start for " Crane-
neck," he rose, the first in the house,
at dawn. Finding no tinder in the tin-
der box with which to light the fire, he
fixed the kindlings, and taking down
the old ' ' Kings Arm " from the brack-
ets over the mantel, placed it across
the andirons, and pouring a little pow-
der into the pan, sprang the trigger
a bang, concussion that nearly sent
him heels over head, while brick and
mortar flew in every direction. Bump,
bump, resounded from above, as the
snoozers sprang from their beds, while

REMINISCENCES

Mr. & Mrs. Colman rushed from their
bedroom on the ground floor en disha-
bille.

"What is it, David?" shouted the
old gentleman.

" My son, what have you done?"
screamed his mother, while the remain-
der of the family rattled down stairs,
querying " what is the matter?" The
commotion subsided, explanation fol-
lowed. The gun which David had
supposed empty, Daniel had loaded the
previous evening in order to fire a
Thanksgiving salute in the morning.

"Well, we've had the salute," said
his father, "a deuce of a salute ; I hope
3'ou'r' satisfied ;" and amid jokes and
laughter the brick and mortar was
cleared. , The stout, old chimney had
well withstood the charge, one jamb
was somewhat shattered, but no great
damage had been done ; but Mrs. Col-
man concluded "that in future she
would ensure a good stock of tinder,
that no similar sportsman-like effort
should be made in lighting the kitchen
fire."

The young man was a good mimic,
and possessed considerable theatrical
talent, and he related this instance with
such inimitable drollery, that the laugh
which I was fain to indulge in, fairl}'
took the twist from my jaw, and
thenceforward iny recovery was rapid.

CHAPTER XXII.

The wealth and superior attractions
of Aunt Adams brought her many
suitors, but for four years her heart
remained constant to the memory of
the early loved ; then it began to be

whispered that she showed an inclina-
tion to favor the suit of Mr. John
Coker.

Robert Coker, yeoman, born in 1606,
came to Newbury with the first settlers,
and died May 19th, 1690, aged 84.
His wife, Catharine, died May 2nd,
1678. Their children were Joseph,
Sara, Benjamin and Hannah,

Joseph Coker married Sara Hathorne
April 13, 1665. Children: Sara, who
died November 30th, 1667, Benjamin,
Sara and Hathorne.

Samuel Coker, son of Hathorne,
owned an extensive tract of land at the
north part of Newbun-port.

Mr. Coker joined the society of
"Friends," and his son, Thomas, who
inherited the estate and erected several
houses in that part of the town, was of
the same society. The family burial
place was in a lot on Washington,
nearly opposite the head of Strong
street. Thomas Coker married Sarah
Greenleaf. John was their oldest son.

The family arms are :

ARGENT ON A BEND GULES, THREE LEOP-
ARD'S HEADS OR. CREST, A MOOB'S
IIKAD, COUPED AT THE SHOUL-
DERS, FL'LL PACED PPR,
WREATHED ABOUT
THE TEMPLES.

For some 3'ears Mr. Thomas Coker

OF A

had cultivated a farm in the lower par-
ish, Newbury, where he had recently
died very suddenly. John thus became
not; only the staff of his widowed
mother, but the head of a large family
of young brothers and sisters. His
filial and fraternal devotion won Mrs.
Adams's regard. Handsome, intelli-
gent, highly respected, and a practical
farmer, the match appeared exceeding-
ly proper, as the young man was every
way qualified for a companion and pro-
tector to the youthful widow. The en-
gagement was at length announced,
but the marriage was not solemnized
until the following October. The wed-
ding was private, but the couple were
the centre of observation, the next Sun-
day. "Walking out bride," was one
of the customs of the time. Few finer
looking couples ever paced up the aisle
of the sacred edifice : the bridegroom
with his nicety cued hair, and light
drab surtout, the bride habited in a
white, dimity flounced dress, a lilac
satin ; short pelisse, edged by rich
black lace, and a salmon colored plush
bonnet, surmounted by tossing white
plumes.

Mr. Coker took his place most de-
corously as the head of the household,
and he immediately instituted man}'
improvements both within doors and
without, the illness and death of the
former proprietor having left the new
buildings and other appurtenances of
the farm in need of care and labor for
completion.

I have previously mentioned that
amongst the apprentices who came to
the place with Mr. William Little was
a youth by the name of Lewis Hatch.
This young man, left an orphan when
a mere child, had purchased his free-
dom when Mr. Little left his sister's

residence, and then a youth of eighteen,
he commenced business for himself,
working in the shop on the place, and
boarding with Mr. Adams.

Politics at this period waxed fierce
and furious. John Coker was an en-
thusiastic "Jacobin," Lewis Hatch as
strong a " Federalist." Constant dis-
putes occurred, not pleasant in a
household. Mr. Hatch concluded to
locate elsewhere, and much as he was
respected, Mrs. Coker was pleased at
this determination.

Four miles from ' ' Crane-Neck " was
a crossing of roads called ' ' New Row-
ley Corner ;" near by resided Maj. Paul
Nelson, a smart man, carrying on con-
siderable business. Though a bache-
lor, he kept house on his estate, upon
which was a large tannery. Amongst
the appurtenances of the place was a
small shoe-maker's shop, which Lewis
Hatch hired, and commenced the shoe
business on a small scale. In a short
time he was joined by my uncle Joe.
Little, both young men boarding in the
family of Maj. Nelson. The business
prospering, my uncle, Ben. Little,
joined the firm, which hired the whole
premises with the exception of the tan-
nery. A housekeeper was procured,
and Maj. Nelson in turn boarded with
the young bachelors, who now had also
several youths apprenticed to them,
besides employing workmen outside.

As a matter of convenience and
profit uncle Joe. Little conceived the
idea of setting up a small grocery and
general furnishing store. One of the
front rooms of the house was fitted
with shelves and other accommoda-
tions, and the goods were purchased.
This shop-keeping immediate!}' pros-
pered. The workmen were pleased at
being enabled to supply their house-

REMENnSCEXCES

hold needs so easily, and as there had
been no store for miles around, custom
began to flock to the place, which even
then wore a bustling air of prosperity.

It would have seemed but natural,
as female cooperation was so necessary,
that one at least of this trio of bache-
lors should seek a wife, and a legend
is extant, that uncle Joe did for a time
entertain some such idea. Before
going to New Rowley, he had formed
the acquaintance of a young lady, the
teacher of the summer school in our
district. The new firm manufactured
for merchants in Salem and Boston,
and as his grocer}' business increased,
uncle Joe. made weekly trips to those
cities, driving his team, which consist-
ed of a two wheeled spring cart drawn
by one horse, (four wheeled wagons
did not come into use until a few years
later) .

The father of the young lady teacher
kept a tavern on the route ; thus my
uncle had ample opportunity to renew
his acquaintance with the daughter.

The young man from childhood had
been addicted to absent fits of intro-
spection, at these times he also had a
habit of picking his nails. I have seen
him stand ten minutes, wholly oblivi-
ous to the outside world, nervously
twitching his fingers.

It was reported that one cold after-
noon on his way home from Boston,
Mr. Little called on the inn keeper's
daughter. Unexpectedly opening the
door to the private sitting room he
briskly entered, but neither the lady
nor the room bore the aspect of neat-
ness to have been expected at that
hour of the day and from one who had
always seemed to pride herself upon
her elegance. The story ran that
though the young man had entered

most cheerily, he suddenly grew silent
and glum ; refusing the chair offered,
he took his stand back to the fire and
fell into a brown stud}*, his eyes fixed
on vacancy, while his nails were
picked most assiduously. A heat at
his ankles roused him, and he found
that in his abstraction he had burned
the heels of his boots.

I never heard that the visit was
renewed ; every matrimonial inclina-
tion disappeared ; Mr. Little became
wholly immersed in his business, and
Miss. Man- Hatch, a sister of Lewis
Hatch, took her place as mistress of
the bachelor establishment.

The New Rowley manufacturers
were often hurried on orders. In the
winter season, when the straw work
was suspended, I often bound both
boots and shoes for them ; in an emer-
gency 1 was their resource.

One afternoon at the period of which
I am writing, in the earl}* part of the
week, uncle Joe. appeared bearing a
hundred pairs of seal-skin boots, which
he said must be corded and strapped
by Saturday. At first I declared they
could not be done in such a limited
time, but after some demur, yielding
to his ardent solicitation, I promised
to do my best, and without the least
delay set to work. It was a dirty dis-
agreeable job ; only love for my uncle,
and a desire to promote his interest
could have induced its undertaking.
As it was, I stitched and stitched
assiduously day after day, and the
task' was accomplished in the given
time. The last stitch was just taken
as uncle Joe. entered the door. He
was accompanied by David Emery.
Smut from head to foot I presented no
very attractive aspect. The young
man snatched the completed boot from

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

my hand, and tossing it at uncle Joe,
vehemently protested against his thu
imposing on my good nature. The
matter ended in a laugh, but thence-
forward only the lighter sort of work
was brought to me, and that only upon
some sudden exigence.

In a few years the business had
increased to such an extent that to
better its accommodation a large store
was erected exactly on "New Rowley
Corner," which thei-eafter bore the
designation of "Little's Corner." A
house was also built for the con-
venience of the bachelor family. In
a short time uncle Ben. Little put
up a large dwelling house in the vicin-
it}', and some indications of a match
between himself and Miss Hatch were
thought to be tangible. At this junc-
ture Mr. Lewis Hatch was suddenly
prostrated with typhoid fever. After
a short illness he died ere he had
reached his thirtieth birth-da}*. His
was a short but active life, and his
death caused a sad void amidst his
limited but choice circle of friends, by
whom his memory has been cherished
with affectionate respect.

Miss Hatch, a delicate person, was
overwhelmed by the death of her
brother, and being a victim to disease,
and though living to an advanced age,
she ever after remained an invalid.

Business at ' ' Little's Corner " rapid-
ly increased, other buildings were
erected, a village sprung up, and the
nucleus for the now flourishing town
of Georgetown was formed. Uncle
Ben. and uncle Joe. have passed away,
but their mantle has worthily descended
.to their nephews, Samuel Little and
John Coker.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Amidst my first reccollections of the
" Port," loom up drear and dread the
jail, the whipping post was opposite,
and the stocks on Water street just
below Market square, and the work-
house on Federal street. Newbur}^
had no poor-house, its paupers were
let out in families. In this way most
reliable servants for lighter work were
often obtained. An old revolutionary
soldier by the name of Mitchell re-
sided in the family of Mr. Moses
Colman for years. This veteran was
held in high estimation by the three
boys, to whom he became an unques-
tionable authority in field sports, the
training of horses and dogs, and other
masculine accomplishments, besides
being a perfect encyclopedia of know-
ledge in various departments of natural
history, with a never failing stock of
humorous anecdotes and tales, mingled
with the sterner recital of privation,
cold and hunger, battle and siege, with
all the details, the light and the shade,
the pomp, pageantry, glory and gore
of the time that tried men's souls.
Later, a woman, always termed " Old
Mar}*," came into the household
whom both children and grandchildren
regarded as a sort of foster mother,
and whose memory is still affection-
ately cherished.

In my more youthful da}*s the roads
were infested by tramps. Ugly look-
ing men and women, begging their way
from one place to another. The meet-
ing of such people on my way to and
from school was one of the terrors of
my childhood. There was an old unoc-
supied house on the road, and I never
passed it alone without accelerated
pace and a quaking heart. Then,
12

REMINISCENCES

though the days of Salem witehcraft
were ended and old women were no
longer hung as witches, in every com-
munity there was one or more believed
to possess the " evil eye," and in every
house could be seen horse shoes above
the doors, and other charms against
their machinations. I vividly recall the
mixture of awe and terror, with wh'ch
I was wont to regard the large, quaint,
red house on the lower corner of Market
and High streets, famous in the annals
of witchcraft. Here resided Goodwife
Elizabeth Morse, who in 1680, "she
not having the fear of God before her
eyes, being instigated b}- the Divil, and
had familiarity with the Divil contrary
to the peace of our sovereign lord the
king, his crown and dignity, the laws
of God, and of this jurisdiction," was
tried in Boston and sentenced to be
hanged. Through the firmness of Gov.
Bradstreet this sentence was commuted,
and though Mrs. Morse lived an exem-
plary, Christian life in her own house
for many years, the stigma attached to
her character had been transmitted
through the succeeding generations.
Tales of the "Goody," and the won-
derful performances that had taken
place at the " Morse House" were fa-
miliar legends, which, detailed of a win-
ter's night, by a low burning candle,
and smouldering fire, the blast shriek-
ing round the large house and howling
down the wide chimney, while the shad-
ows deepened in the spacious room,
and the tall clock in the corner ticked
a solemn accompaniment to the low,
tragic tones of the speaker, had often
wrought an effect upon my imagination
which time has failed to efface.

It would have been difficult to have
ascertained how or why the females
thus marked, had received the unenvia-

ble notoriety of witches. Generally
they were persons of the lower class,
some might have lost caste b}- youthful
indiscretion, or by a somewhat dubious
means of obtaining a present livelihood,
but usually they were hard-working,
inoffensive women, possessing a
marked individuality, strong intellect-
ual faculties, quick perception and keen
wit, united to a firm will and independ-
ence of action, characteristics which,
in some way, had brought upon them
the ban of the community. The witch
of the " Falls Parish," was an old
woman called "Tuggie Xoyes ;" her real
Christian name was Margaret. I nev-
er heard how she obtained the nickname
of Tuggie. I have only a faint remem-
brance of her, a dim recollection , of
stealing behind my mother to peep at
the witch, as she bargained for some
tobacco which my father had raised. I
think this woman gained a livelihood
by spinning and weaving, and she was
frequently employed by Mrs. Moses
Colman. I have often heard David
Emery relate an incident of his boy-
hood by which his disbelief in witches
was fulh* confirmed.

One cold winter morning, David and
his chum Xate Perlc}- were on their way
to the old school-house at the corners,
when they descried Tuggie advancing
over the half-trodden path, the hood of
her gray lambskin cloak drawn around
her face, and a bunch of woolen yarn
in her hand.

" There's the witch," Xate exclaimed,
lamenting the lack of a sixpence to
place in the path to "stop her farther
progress.

His companion expressed his credul-
ity respecting such an effect, but never-
theless drew a sixpence from his pock-
et, which he adroitly dropped immedi-

OP A NONAGENARIAN.

ately before the old woman ; she passed
on directly over it with a curtsy and
good day, and David again pocketed
his coin, firm in the faith of Tuggie's
innocence of any diabolical influence,
with a full determination, never to be-
lieve in any witch, save the witch of
Endor.

When I was six or seven years old,
a young man in the neighborhood be-
came insane. For a time he was a
complete maniac, necessitating confine-
ment, and a watchful attendance. Dis-
ease of the brain was not generally un-
derstood ; if one became a victim of ab-
erration of intellect, it was universally
declared that they were bewitched, and
the various charms, most supremely
ridiculous, then in vogue, were imme-
diately exercised to dispel the foul
fiend. Young Edward Hills, having
as it was declared fallen under the in-
fluence of the " evil eye," great were
the efforts to discover the author of the
spell b} r which he was bound. Suspic-
ion pointed to two or three old women
in that and the next parish, over
whom a secret but strict surveilliance
was instituted, while every test known
in the annals of witch lore was put in
requisition for the relief of the sup-
posed bewitched youth.

The person held in the greatest dis-
trust was a worthy hard working
woman, residing a short distance from
Mr. Hill's. AVhy or how she should
have attained to the dubious honor of
being considered an equestrienne of
the broomstick I never could conceive,
unless it was from a shrewd, far-
sighted intellect, and a fearless and
forcible expression of her convictions,
a keen wit, and a somewhat sharp
tongue, that usually, to use a familiar
phrase, " hit the nail on the head."

Aunt Euth Little believed in witches
as religiously as she did in her bible
the least doubt was considered rank
heresy. The supposed witch was em-
ployed by the families in the vicinity
both in spinning and weaving, and
upon learning Edward Hill's situation
Mrs. Little commenced a strict scrutiny
over her neighbor. One evening that
spring a young heifer unused to the
process of milking became a little frac-
tious and kicked over the milk pail.
Aunt Ruth instantly declared her be-
witched, and rushing to the barn armed
with her sharp shears, she clipt a few
hairs from the animal's tail, which were
flung upon the fire. A fortnight after
the supposed witch came in with her
hand bandaged, she had burned it a
few nights previous with the warming-
pan. The expression of horror that
.stole over aunt Euth's face at this
announcement would have established
the reputation of a tragic actress.
" Sartinly she had had her suspicions,
but r'aly they had never amounted to
conviction till then ; to think that by
burning the hair from the heifer's tail
the hussy should get her hand scorched
by the warming-pan ! "

In vain both her husband, the hired
man and David Emery, all declared
that the incident respecting the heifer
took place more than a week prior to
the accident by the warming-pan, aunt
Ruth was not to be silenced. "She
knew black from white, and when her
convictions were settled they were set-
tled."

After a time Mr. Hill became per-
fectly sane. By trade a joiner, he
married and settled on the . family
homestead ; years after, a few years
prior to my marriage, he was again at-
tacked by insanity. For a time he

KEMEMSCENCES

was extremely violent, so much so
that he was chained to the floor of the
parlor, which had been denuded of
the furniture and the windows boarded
to the upper panes. Though this sys-
tem was rather calculated to enhance
than repel the malady, after a time
the disease assumed a milder type,
and the maniac again took his place in
the household, but to the end of a long
life, his brain continued clouded. For
months he would remain indoors, quiet
and silent, then suddenly become the
impersonation of activity, brimming
over with a crazed wit, that was as
humorous as it usually was harmless.
At this second period of insanity,
the world had sufficiently advanced in
knowledge to place the affliction in the
appropriate category; only a few, like
aunt Ruth, still adhered to the witch
doctrine, but the old ideas were held
with such tenacity that Parson Woods
was called to exorcise the foul fiend,
and one watcher was nearly frightened
out of his wits at the familj- cat, sup-
posing her to be some witch's familiar.
As the spring advanced, the young
men in the vicinity volunteered to do
the ploughing and planting for Mr.
Hill. I often went to the Byfield factory
on business, and Mrs. Hill told my
brother James that she 'was desirous
that I should execute a commission for
her the next tune I rode thither. Ac-
cordingly, one pleasant evening, I went
in to receive her orders. Mrs. Hill
was milking, the children were with her.
Mr. Hill sat before a light fire which
was smouldering in the kitchen fire-
place. Seeing that he was alone, I
hesitated on the threshold ; looking up,
the lunatic with a pleased expression
bade me enter and be seated. "His
old woman would be in directly."

Squinting up one eye, with a wise
shake of the head, he added, " I know
what she wants of you, Sallie. She
thinks, wonderful woman, that it is a
profound secret, but she has sent for
you to bu} r the cloth at the factory for
me a pair of breeches, and she has the
money laid by to pay for it. Draw up
your chair, Sallie, }'ou are not afraid of
me. I sha'n't scare you as I did that
New Hampshire chap that boarded at
Deacon Tenney's last winter. I saw
he was scared the moment he came in,
and I determined to have a bit of fun.
Didn't I kick up a ringtum ? The big
lout was e'en jest frightened out of his
senses ; he daresn't stay in the room,
but every two minutes he would open
the door a crack, and squeak out, 'won't
you have a leetle caffee,Mr. Hill won't
you have a leetle caflee ? ' I got so out
of patience, I told him to hold his in-
fernal tongue or 1 would ' caffee ' him
with a vengeance ! I silenced him, but
the darned fool took our old Suke for
a witch, declared a strange cat flew in-
to my room through the ke}' hole, when
it was only our old cat who pushed in
beside him, while he was holding the
door and bawling 'caflee.' They say
I was bewitched, Sallie. It was sport
to make folks think so. Wasn't it fun
to make folks' eyes stick out ? Aunt
Ruth thought she knew. Oh 3-03, she
is the elect lady ! She knows ; so the}'
sent for Parson Woods. I told him
he had such an acquaintance with his
Satanic Majest}', his services would
have been especially efficacious if need-
ed, but I scarcely thought he would
find any divil to exorcise. If he could
he was at libert}- to pitch him into my
pig-sty." Giving me another of his
peculiarly knowing squints, he contin-
ued, " Between 3-011 and I, I think the

OF A

Lord was rather hard upon that Gada-
rene. He must have taken him out of
a good round sum. I have been calcu-
lating," he added, pointing to some
chalk marks by the fire-place, " but as
the account only states the number,
and not the value per head, I am una-
ble to ascertain the loss. The fact was,
Sallie, the Parson came too late, [and
so I informed him. I told him the
witches were dead. I saw them one
moonlight night piping and dancing up
" Crane-neck road." Old women on
broomsticks, and young gals kicking
up their heels, old Nick ahead leading
the way. Fust they stopped at yer
uncle Enoch Little's, but he swore so
fast, the Divil gin in, and the gang
trooped into uncle John's. Mr. Little
was sitting afore the fire toasting fust
the palms then the backs of his hands.
He looked 'round, held out one hand,
then the other, and said, ' yes, yes
yes, yes,' so old Nick struck up again,
and on they squirled to your house.
Mr. Sam. Smith was down from Ver-
mont, singing Methody hymns so loud
they turned over to uncle Thurrel's.

The old man driving up old ' White'
in the cider mill, too much hurried to
salute his fust cousin, he hollered,
' Terap, Terap,' so lustily, the whole
batch scampered off hilter skilter down
'South End,' across 'Crane meadow,'
and before they could fetch up, they
rushed headlong into ' Crane pond,'
and that was the end of the witches."

With this announcement Mr. Hill
gravely surve}"ed the opposite wall in
silence, and I indulged in the merri-
ment his apt description of the pecul-
iar traits ot the individuals visited by
the witches had exacted. Suddenly
my companion started from his reverie,
and exclaiming that his boot hurt him,

drew it from his right foot ; having al-
so removed his stockings, part of an-
other stocking foot was disclosed ; tak-
ing this off, he held up his foot, the
toes covered by the thumb and fingers of
buckskin glove, and asked, "if I
should think that would feel com-
fortable?"

Answering in the negative, I in-
quired why he had thus bundled up his
toes? Vouchsafing no reply, he slow-
ly and sedately drew off first the thumb
and next the fingers, flinging them
into the fire with a muttered invocation
as each fell upon the coals, and as the
last curled upon the embers, he quickly
turned, and with a most quizzical look
said ; ' ' David would get credit in a
steeple chase, 'tisn't every one that
could leap the wall as he did last win-
ter, but he broke his shaft."

I made no answer, and pretended
not to understand.

"You needn't make believe you
don't comprehend what I mean. You
know last winter when Tea street was
blocked up and the path led through
my field, David Emery mistook and
took a flying leap over the wall above
the house instead of going below
through the bars. He thought no one
knew it. If the windows were boarded
up I heard him. He broke his shaft I
know. I wanted to go out to help
him, but they said no one was there.
I was bewitched. There was a line in
the sleigh box to tie up the shaft.
David tied it together ; then I heard
the bells as he drove up the hill.
David says old Mitchell has taught him
to always go armed and equipped.
That is a grand horse, and David is a
good horseman ; not one in a thousand
could have cleared that wall as he did.
Oh, David's a trump ! But 3-011 do not

REMINISCENCES

know of whom I am speaking ! You
know nothing of the gentleman nor his
proceedings !" and with a prolonged
laugh and most emphatic grimaces the
lunatic pulled on his stocking and boot.
Mrs. Hill caine in as she gave me her
commission. I repeated what her hus-
band had told me. She expressed
great surprise, and said he must have
guessed her intentions, as she had never
mentioned them. His intuition and
cunning were remarkable ; she some-
times thought that she must join with
aunt Ruth and pronounce him be-
witched.

CHAPTER XXIV.

That spring David Emery made his
first and last sea voyage. Though
this short trip comprised the whole of
his sea faring life, it brought that
which many a veteran sailor who has
circumnavigated the globe has failed
to experience the horrors of a ship-
wreck.

Business suddenly summoned the
young man to Eastport, District of
Maine. He expected to be absent a
month. In about three weeks I
received a letter.' It had been long on
the road, as in those unsettled regions
the mail was chiefly transported in sad-
dle bags by a carrier on horseback.
David wrote that we might expect him
by the middle of June. Friday, the
sixteenth of June, dawned overcast
and sultry ; scarcely a leaf stirred
through the da}*, and the night came
on murkj- and oppressive. About mid-
night I was awakened by the wind, a
gust struck with great force against the
long, sloping, back roof. There was a

furious squall for a few moments ;
while the rain came in a torrent, the
wind slightly abated, but a severe
north-east storm set in, which con-
tinued until noon Saturday.

As we knew David must be near the
coast, great anxiety was felt respect-
ing him. Sundaj- passed without
tidings, but Monda}- morning my
brother Joseph learned at the grist
mill in By field, that he had been cast
away on Plum Island, and that his
brother, Jeremiah Colman, brought him
to his father's on Sunda}*. Mr. Perley,
from whom the news was obtained,
reported that no injury had been
received to life or limb, "but he did
wish we could have seen the figure
David cut ; his clothes, especially his
hat, all filled with lint from the sails,
was a sight to behold."

In the afternoon the young man
drove over, looking none the worse for
his disaster. After father had drawn
a mug of his best cider, the traveller
gave us a description of his adventures.
Though the schooner in which he was
forced to take passage was old and
dirt}', the trip to Eastport was both
quick and pleasant ; his speculation
succeeded, and he was most hospitably
entertained by most agreeable people.
Business called him to a ne.v settle-
ment up the St. Croix river. The only
means of transportation was by a birch
bark canoe, paddled b}* an Indian.
The red-skin belonged to a tribe living
above Eastport ; he haJ. come to the
town to procure the wherewithal to cel-
ebrate the nuptials of a daughter ; an
addition to his purse was acceptable,
and he readily agreed to take the
3'oung man up the river that day and
down the next.

His directions as he seated his

OF A NONAGENARIAN'.

passenger in the bottom of the canoe
were most strict and emphatic. " Sit
straight, keep arms so, keep quiet,
canoe go over just like dat," he said,
snapping his fingers. "Me drown one
white man, me never get no more white
man to paddle."

Knowing the nature of the frail bark
Mr. Emery comforted himself with
such discretion as to win the en-
comiums of his companion, eliciting
grunts of approbation.

The da}* wore on. Hour after hour
they glided up the broad, beautiful
stream, bordered by the primeval
forest. The grave, taciturn Indian
bending to his task, the silence of the
still June day unbroken, save by the
dip of the paddle, the note of a bird,
or the far away cry of some wild
animal in the distance.

Hungry and thirsty, weary from the
cramped position, near sunset the
3'oung man joyfully descried a clearing
upon the bank, a little wharf project-
ing into the river, and a clump of
buildings in the back ground.

Upon landing Mr. Emery learned
that the gentleman he had come hither
to seek was in Boston. A representa-
tive from the " District of Maine," he
had gone thither to attend the General
Court, which at that time commenced
its sittings at "Election,* which was
on the last Wednesday in May. Though
the mistress of the mansion expressed
regret that her husband could not
have the pleasure of entertaining the
guest, he received the assurance that
she possessed full power to facilitate the
errand which had brought him there.
Upon Mr. Emery's expressing his fears
that his boatman might be an annoy-
ance, she bade hind " have no concern,
as she often entertained the Indians of

the vicinity ; had a back room and
blankets for their especial accommoda-
tion."

The row back to Eastport was made
in safety. The Indian had taken a
fancy to his passenger, and invited him
to his daughter's wedding ; press of
business prevented the acceptance of
this invitation, though it would have
given the young man pleasure to have
been present at such a novel enter-
tainment. The Indian having made
his purchases, a barrel of flour, one
cwt. of pork, a keg of molasses, and
two gallons of .rum, took leave; hav-
ing been presented with a few trinkets
for the bride, the gratified redskin un-
der the influence of gratitude and us-
quebaugh, affectionately hugged his
"white brother," and with grunts of
satisfaction seated himself amidst his
possessions and slowly paddled home-
ward.

Upon introduction to a young French
priest, the cure of a Catholic mission
up the river, Mr. Emery received an
invitation to visit the station, which he
did the next Sunday in companj- with
a party of ladies and gentlemen. The
church and mission house which stood
in the midst of the Indian village, were
heavy structures of rough stone, the
surrounding huts were of slabs and
boards, with garden patches showing
rude attempt at cultivation. The
church was well filled, many of the
worshippers having come a long dis-
tance through the forest. Several of
the women had pappooses strapped on
their shoulders in blankets. The men
were tall and athletic, the elder women
somewhat homely, but the younger
ones rather good looking, some of the
girls were decidedly pretty. Most of
the women were gay with gew-gaws

REMINISCENCES

and feathers, their shapely feet showing
to great advantage in their elaborately
ornamented deerskin moccasins. His
companion of the canoe was the first
to greet Mr. Emery. His delight at
again seeing his "white brother" was
warmly expressed, and he hastened to
fetch the bride and bridegroom and the
other members of his family. The
young cure was evidently beloved and
respected, his flock were quiet and de-
vout through the service. The party
were hospitably entertained by the
priest, who in the afternoon, in defer-
ence to his guests, preached a fine ser-
mon in English that in the morning
had been delivered in French. This
was Mr. Emery's introduction to that
church which he had been taught to
shun and abhor, but it gave a pleasing
impression which ever after remained.
The second week in June the Lucy
Ann set sail for Newburyport. The
crew consisted of the skipper and
three men ; there were two passengers
beside Mr. Emery, a Mr. Little, an
Irishman by birth, and at that time do-
ing business in Boston, and a 3 r oung
man, belonging in Newburyport, by the
name of Richardson. Off Boon Island
the schooner was becalmed for several
days and the passengers took the op-
portunit}' to visit a farm-house there.
The sixteenth the night closed in dark
and foggy. Mr. Emery was awakened
by the squall. Amid a terrible pitch-
ing, snapping, creaking and flapping,
the passengers made their way on deck.
The rain poured like a flood, it was
difficult to sustain a foothold, 'ever}--
thing was flying in every direction.
The deck load of wood and bark was
pitching hither and thither, pieces of
bark being hurled mast high. The
squall subsided, but the storm came on

fierce and terrific. The skipper thought
he was in the vicinity of Portsmouth,
and every effort was made to clear the
coast. Heavier grew the sea, stronger
the blast. Sea after sea swept the
deck, the roaring billows dashing to
the mast head, raged around the frail
craft, phosphorescent crested, one sheet
of fitime. At length, to eveiyone's re-
lief, the day dawned, but still the mist
and spray shut in the sight. Suddenly
came the cry, " a sail ahead ; " the fog
at that moment slightly cleared, and in
affrighted tones, the captain ejaculated,
' ' My God ! It is Newburyport lights."

He was an Eastern man, unacquaint-
ed with the coast ; turning to his pas-
senger, he demanded, " Emer} T , what
ami to do?"

The young man remembering Hamp-
ton rocks, replied, " Keep her off, run
to the leeward, clear the bar if possi-
ble."

The captain "inquired if he could
make Cape Ann harbor." Mr. Emery
thought not, and shortly a tremendous
sea which carried away the main boom
settled the question. The weather had
begun to clear, Mr. Emeiy could dis-
cern that they were nearly abreast of
the Plum Island hotel, and he advised
beaching the craft immediately. The
helm was turned, she swung slowly
'round and headed for the shore. Those
acquainted with the coast in a teriffic
northeaster will appreciate the situa-
tion.. On she went, thrown forward by
the waves. A tremendous bump, then
she swung back, but the next sea took
her and with a second bump and bang,
which carried the foremast and main-
mast by the board, the Lucy Ann set-
tled into the sand, her aqueous career
forever ended.

The storm abated, towards noon the

rain ceased, and preparations were
made to get a line on shore. Mr.
Clifford, the landlord of the hotel, had
espied the schooner, and with his boy
was on the beach ready to render
assistance, but who was the one to
breast that thunderous surf? The lot
fell upon a stalwart sailor who had
been caught stealing from the passen-
gers. Stripped to his shirt arid
drawers, a rope secured around his
waist, the stout fellow plunged into the
swirl of waters, and, after a strenuous
struggle, almost exhausted, he at
length reached the land. The others
prepared to follow. There was valu-
able propert} T in the cabin ; Mr. Little
had several thousand dollars on board,
the other passengers a considerable
sum, all in specie. It was thought
that the hull would hold together. Mr.
Emery went below to cord his trunk
more securely, there he found young
Richardson tying up a hundred silver
dollars in a bandanna pocket-handker-
chief. Mr- Emery vainly tried to per-
suade the foolish fellow to return the
money to his box, but he persisted in
taking it on deck, where the first wave
burst the frail envelope and a hundred
silver dollars were added to the treas-
ures of the deep.

Mr. Little, not a swimmer, was fear-
ful that he could not reach the shore by
the line, but being duly encouraged a
successful attempt was made, and the
whole five reached terra finna without
accident.

Refreshed and dried, as the weather
had cleared and the tide turned, with
the aid of Mr. Clifford's horse and cart
the articles were taken from the
schooner and brought safely to the
hotel. Nothing was lost but Richard-
son's silver. Mr. Clifford took the

skipper to town. Mr. Little was so
anxious that Mr. Emery should remain
with him over night that the young
man somewhat reluctantly consented.
The merchant had made arrangements
to go into business in Eastport, and he
was solicitous to remove all traces of
the disaster from his clothes and
papers, in order that his wife should
know nothing of it, as, if she did, he
feared he never would be able to re-
move her from Boston.

During David's absence, his brother,
Jeremiah Colman, had been married to
Miss Mary Chute, daughter of Deacon
James Chute of Byfield. Mr. Colman
had been established in the butchering
business in Newbur} T port for some
time, and the young couple had set up
housekeeping in half of the Pearson
house on Charter street. Learning
what had befallen David, Jerry drove
to the Island and insisted on taking

him to his house, where Mrs. Colman
received him with sisterly affection,
and every effort was made for his re-
freshment and comfort.

The hulk after lying some time in
the sand was eventually broken up.
The vessel had been insured at New-
buryport, and at first some had de-
murred respecting paying the insur-
ance, but upon farther investigation it
was promptly handed over.

CHAPTER XXV.

I have stated that Mr. Benjamin
Colman purchased ' ' Slade's meeting-
house," and having moved it near his
residence, which was in the vicinity of
the Byfield parsonage, fitted the build-
13

REMESTSCEXCES

ing for a seminar}-. The prospectus
of the Female Academy, Byfield, pub-
lished in the " Newburyport Herald,"
enumerates "Grammar, Arithmetic,
Geography, Rhetoric, Composition,
Painting and needle-work,'' as the
branches taught. It adds : " It is ex-
pected that a gentleman of Christian
education will, general!}', every day
visit the Seminary, and if occasion
require, lend assistance in teaching
the higher branches of study, or
give instruction on those topics which
may promote the general object of
female education." Miss Rebecca
Hardy was the first teacher, Miss Re-
becca Hazeltine succeeded as princi-
pal, and her younger sister, Ann, after-
ward Mrs. Judson, one of the first
American missionaries to India, acted
as assistant. A school of from forty
to fifty pupils was gathered, young
ladies from the wealthier families in the
neighborhood and surrounding coun-
try, with others from places more
remote. The summer of which I am
writing there were several from Xew
Hampshire, and the interior towns of
Massachusetts. Some of the older
pupils were affianced to clergymen,
and had placed themselves under Miss
Hazeltine's instruction, the better to
qualify themselves for the dignified and
responsible position of a minister's
wife. Amongst these was Miss Lucy
Brown, afterwards Mrs. Demond of
the upper parish in "West Newbury.

The Misses Hazeltine and some half
dozen of the pupils boarded with Dr.
Parish, a number were accommodated
in the families of Messrs. Benjamin and
Moses Colman, the others were located
in the vicinity. Miss Lucy Brown
boarded with Mr. Moses Colman, and
she became such a favorite that in after

years her sojourn in the family was
often referred to with pleasure.

According to the prospectus, clergy-
men frequented the school to lecture
and attend to its interests. To young
students about entering the ministry
this seminary was a special attraction.
The pupils were often in a flutter of
excitement over this and that young
minister, and several engagements were
formed. One morning a very piously
disposed youth appeared, whom the
principal introduced as the Rev. Mr.
, adding, "that having deter-

mined to consecrate his life to the con-
version of heathen in foreign lands, he
had come to enquire if any one of the
young ladies present could so far deny
herself and take up her cross as to
accompany him as his soul's partner in
his work for Christ and Him crucified.
If either of the misses felt that she
could do so, put her whole heart into
the holy work, she would please rise."
As the sound died on the teacher's lips,
up jumped every girl in the room. All
were ready to be given as lambs to the
sacrifice. After much suppressed laugh-
ter, some blushes and confusion, the
matter was deferred to another time,
but in a few weeks the missionary
bore away a bride.

From time immemorial it had been
the custom for parties to visit Plurn
Island, in September, when the plums
were ripe. Families joined through-
out the neighborhood, or the vouno-

f / O

men and maidens, in as smart turnouts
as could be secured, gaily hied, in a
long procession, to spend a day or an
afternoon in innocent amusement. Sev-
eral parties of married people in Bv-
field had made this annual excursion,
and as some of the young ladies at the
Seminary from the interior towns, who

OF A

had never seen the sea, had expressed
a desire for the ride, the young gen-
tlemen of the parish resolved them-
selves into a committee to make the
necessary arrangements for a Plum
Island party. Pains were taken to
make it in every respect a first-class
affair, the most perfect etiquette being
observed in the invitations and arrange-
ments. The intelligence of what was
afoot, reached the Seminary a day or
two prior to the issue of the invita-
tions, making quite a stir amongst the
pupils. The preceptress made no ob-
jection to the proposed recreation, but
the younger assistant, Miss Ann, or as
she was then termed Miss Nancy, set
up such a violent opposition that
it reached the ears of the gentle-
men. Amongst the most prominent of
the By field beaux, was Joseph Noyes,
son of Mr. Lemuel Noyes. Of a
wealthy family and liberally educated,
with a pleasing person and address,
this 3'oung man had been selected as
the most suitable escort for Miss Nanc} T
Ilazeltine, but upon learning her disap-
proval of the party, he paid his devoirs
elsewhere, and several of the girls
sought Dr. Parish's advice respecting
the propriety of accepting their invita-
tions. The Doctor said go. " He was
proud and pleased that the young men
of his society had thus given them the
opportunity to view the beauty, wonder
and sublimity of the mighty ocean."
That summer Mr. Moses Colman had
purchased a new chaise. This stylish
vehicle, the hight of ton, had a* square,
canvas covered top, with a body
painted in bright vermillion, the rest of
the wood-work dark brown, the lining
and cushions were of drab broadcloth,
and an oilcloth covered the floor. Da-
vid Emery owned a horse ; Daniel Col-

man would take his father's, but which
should have the chaise? Poor Mr.
Colman puzzled over this problem all
one morning. At length a happj* idea
suggested itself which was ihade
known at the dinner table. Much to
his son's astonishment the old gentle-
man, in his loud, cheery tones, abrupt-
ly exclaimed: " Boys the one that
carries the best girl to Plum Island
shall have the new chaise."

An addition was building to Mr.
Colman's house : at the table were two
joiners from West Newbury, Mr.
Jonathan Chase and Daniel Silloway.
Before the disconcerted young men
could reply, Mr. Chase exclaimed :
"Then David must have the chaise,
for he will take Sallie Smith, and she
is the best girl in West Newbury."
" Good, good," the gentlemen replied
with delight. David shall have the
chaise. Daniel, as soon you have
swallowed your dinner go over to
Mose Dole's and hire the best chaise
he has."

Chaise making had already become
a thriving business in West Newbury,
but Mr. Moses Dole of Byfield did
most of the blacksmith work. The
different artisans often clubbed together
to build a lot of chaises, which were
divided amongst them ; this caused
Mr. Dole to usually have a number of
these vehicles for sale or to let.

The anticipated morning at length
dawned clear and bright, a lovely Sep-
tember clay. Mrs. Colman had insist-
ed that I should come over to Byfield
and dine. David came for me about
ten o'clock. The new chaise was re-
splendent, and " Bob," a chubby sor-
rel horse had been groomed to match,
and the silver mounted harness was as
lustrous as whiting could polish. David

100

REMINISCENCES

in a handsome new suit looked as ele-
gant as his equipage. White cambric
or dimity was the fashionable dress for
such an occasion. I wore white cam-
bric, and a straw bonnet trimmed with
a broad, white, lutestring ribbon.

David was in high spirits. He had
just returned from Boston, and enter-
tained me during the ride with a de-
scription of his visit. He had dined
with his friend, Charles Parsons, at
his father's, Judge Parsons' mansion.
Charles had great!}' diverted his visitor
by introducing his youngest brother as,
" this is oui' Thof, a great sarpint, just
like pa."

At dinner the judge had been espec-
ially entertaining. After minute in-
quires respecting his boyhood's home,
he fell to recounting anecdotes of his
school days. The parsonage boys, as
is proverbial of minister's sons, had
been great rogues.

' ' One day in mid winter their
teacher was invited to dine at the par-
sonage. He was a self-sufficient, pom-
pous coxcomb, much disliked by his
pupils, and the minister's boys deter-
mined upon a practical joke. The
snow was frozen hard, and the master,
to shorten the distance, had come
across lots from his boarding place.
After dinner, while the pedagogue was
sipping hot punch, and smoking a pipe
with their father, his hopeful pupils
proceeded to crack the ice in a small
stream which their teacher would pass
on his way home. This accomplished,
they hid amidst some alders. It was a
tedious while to wait, for the punch
and tobacco were good, the minister
entertaining, and his parlor warm and
pleasant. At length towards dusk
their patience was rewarded. The
lord of the birch was descried ap-

proaching, swinging his cane, full of
self-importance and good cheer. Proud
of having dined at the parsonage, he
strutted forward with an increased as-
sumption of arrogance, dressed in his
gold-laced cocked hat, velvet coat and
breeches, silk stockings, and gaiters.
On he came, his head high in air, his
cane twirling from his fingers, on on

crack crackle splash splurge

kersouse went the discomfitted Doin-
inee knee deep in the brook, much to
his chagrin and ire, and to the huge
delight of the watchers amid the alders.

There were several sous, and one of
the younger boys having inherited all
the worn, dog-eared school books of
his elder brothers, determined that
they should descend no farther ; so as
fast as a leaf was committed to mem-
ory he tore it out and crammed it into
a hole in the wall beside his desk, thus
at the end of the study the book was
minus, excepting covers. Lem. Noyes,
a somewhat loutish, dull boy, often
became a butt for their jokes. They
had excited his wrath, and he had
threatened to thrash them. He was
larger and stronger than the minis-
ter's sons ; the}- knew they stood no
chance in an encounter of fisticuffs, so
they concocted a plan to get the better
of their school-mate. In the vicinity
of the school house was a tan yard,
and having laid some loose boards over
one of the vats, they challenged Lem.
to .a race. The unsuspecting youth
eagerly joining in the sport, of course
was permitted to get ahead ; proud of
his agility, the poor fellow rushed for-
ward with a tremendous effort, to sud-
denly find himself lying among the
hides. Amongst the scholars was a
negro boy. Most of the families in
Bvfield in the olden time held one or

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101

more slaves, and there was usually
quite a sprinkling of the sable hue
amongst the pupils of the district
school. The boys under pretence of
dressing the darky's head saturated his
wool with oil, then they put him up to
some prank for which he was sure to
receive punishment. The teacher was
the one who had received the cold bath,
a great dandy, always foppishly attired.
Coming up the aisle and noticing the
delinquent he gave the little nig a
sound cuff in the side of the head which
spattered the oil all over his fine
clothes. The master in impotent rage
glanced over the school house. The
parson's boys were the impersonation
of serious studiousness, and the other
scholars, though wholly innocent of the
trick, but many of whom having wit-
nessed the transaction were on the
broad grin, received the castigation
which was so richly deserved else-
where.

I was greatty amused at these
stories, and the ride seemed unusually
short. Some ten years previous New-
bury had received an heir, a two years
old boy of African lineage. What was
to be done with this waif? The over-
seers of the poor met to decide. It
was customary to put such children, to
remain until twenty-one, into a family,
which received a small compensation
from the town until the child was seven
years old ; after that his services were
considered a sufficient remuneration.
Somebody must take little Charles
Fields, but where could this somebody
be found? Mr. Colman's sons always
averred, " that father was never satis-
fied unless he had a parrot, a monkey
and a nigger." The black baby with
his round woolly head, shining eyes
and glistening teeth, fairly won the

benevolent gentleman's heart, and as
no one else offered, he armfulled up
little Charley, and an hour later, much
to Mrs. Colman's astonishment, he
placed the bo}~ in her lap, with the in-
junction "to take care of the little ras-
cal." The command was faithfully exe-
cuted. Charles received every privi-
lege that had been accorded to the sons
of the family, with the exception of the
academic course at Dummer Academy.
I am sorry to say that a poor return
was received for this trouble and care.
The little black rascal grew up a big
rascal, causing much vexation until his
decease, which occurred in middle life.
At this time he was a stout lad of
thirteen. Cap in hand, with a pro-
found obeisance and a great display of
ivory, he swung aside the gate at the
head of the avenue as we drove up.

Mrs. Colman gave me a cordial, and
Mr. Colman a rapturous greeting.
" Had he not always promised that I
should be David's little wife ? " I was
introduced to Mr. and Mrs. John
Colman. John, the oldest son of
Deacon Colman, had married a lady by
the name of Danforth. This couple
signalized themselves by their migra-
tory life, during which they made
thuty-two removals. Some half doz-
en of these were between Byfield
and Maine. Mrs. Colman used to
boast that she had crossed the ocean
between Newburyport and the District
of Maine fourteen times, and she
would add, "the happiest time in my
life was when I was midway in these
removals ; at that point I was rejoicing
at having left the old place and look-
ing forward with hope to the new."

As was natural, these rolling stones
gathered little moss, but always san-
guine and cheerful, they passed as

102

REMINISCENCES

happy and contented a life as either of
the family. At this time the}* were
paying a farewell visit to their brother
prior to one of their Sittings eastward.

During the Revolutionary war Dea-
con Colman had filled an army order
for boots and shoes. These with other
clothing Moses had taken in mid-win-
ter to New. Jersey in a covered cart
, drawn by a span of horses.

During dinner Mr. Colmaii gave a
graphic description of the ragged and
desolate appearance of our troops, on
his arrival at Morristown, just at the
close of that winter so memorable for
suffering, and the joy with which his
arrival was hailed.

" Yes," exlaimed old Mitchell, " and
the shoes were a good honest make,
but the stockings, most of them, were a
darned cheat, and the woman that could
thus deceive a poor soldier must have a
mighty small soul." The hose had been
knit loose, then stretched on a board
fashioned like a last ; when washed they
shrunk so as to be scarcely wearable.
This was in the good old times ; human
nature is much alike in all generations.

The rendezvous for the party had
been appointed at Deacon Ben. Col-
man's. From a dozen to fifteen chaises
formed in procession, and gaily trot-
ted to the island. Our visit was ex-
pected. Mr. Clifford and his waiters
were profuse in their attention. We
were ushered into the parlor, wine hav-
ing been served, we proceeded amid
much fun and frolic, to make our wav
to the beach over the loose sand.
Joseph Noyes escorted a Miss Parkis,
the daughter of Dr. Parkis, a distin-
guished physician of Hanover ; and
Daniel Colman, Miss Betsy Smith, a
great witch, and the only daughter of
a wealthy family in Dover. Miss Par-

kis and Mr. Noyes were very merry
at Miss Nancy Hazeltine's expense.
As Mr. Noyes 'drove up to take Miss
Parkis, Miss Hazeltine, glancing from
the window, exclaimed, "there's Joe.
Noyes, he has come to take me to Plum
Island, but he will find I do not coun-
tenance such frivolity." To her cha-
grin Miss Parkis tripped down the
stairs, Mr. Noyes assisted her into the
chaise, and with a polite salutation to
Miss Nancy at the window, drove
away.

After a merry afternoon, we returned
to the hotel, where an elegant supper
awaited us, spread in the iipper hall.
At its close, as it was near sunset, the
chaises were ordered. At Newbury-
port Mr. Emery and myself bade the
others good evening, and took the di-
rect route for West Newbury.

The young ladies at the Seminary
were so delighted with their excursion,
that girl-like they gave enthusiastic
descriptions of the ride. This brought
such severe animadversions from the
assistant teacher, that her pupils, some
of them as old, or older than herself,
lost patience. The matter spread
amongst the gentlemen, and the big
scamps, in the total depravity _of their
unregenerate hearts, planned a practi-
cal joke at the expense of the lady
whom they regarded as righteous over-
much. I never knew who originated
the plot, but strongly suspect that it
might have sprung from the creative
brains of Miss Betsy Smith and Daniel
Colman. Few that only knew the
staid man in after years, could compre-
hend what a gay fellow he then was.

In Mr. Colman' s employ was a young
man, the son of a deceased pastor of
Rowley, John Jewett, a very clever,
but rather simple fellow, who was in-

OP A

103

formed that he ought to invite Miss Haz-
eltine to go to Plum Island. " She re-
ceived no invitation at the time of the
party ; for the honor of Byfield this over-
sight ought to be repaired. A clergy-
man's son, he was the one for her escort.
He should have the new chaise and
David's horse, the most stylish equip-
ment."

At first John demurred, but his cour-
age having been raised by the bribe of
a pound of tobacco, an article of which
he was inordinately fond, a few eve-
nings after the party, the young man
all in his best and he always dressed
handsomely dashed up to Dr. Parish's
door, in the unexceptionable turnout,
and inquired for Miss Nancy Hazeltine.
Upon that lady's appearance, in his
most courtly manner, and he was very-
well bred, he requested the pleasure of
her company on a ride to Plum Island
the next afternoon. Miss Nancy drew
back in surprise and horror, and with
an indignant exclamation, slammed the
door in the face of the astonished gal-
lant, who after standing a moment on
the door-stone in bewildered astonish-
ment, returned to the chaise, and drove
home with curses both loud and deep
upon his lips. Miss Nancy sought her
room in such an Irysterical excitement
that it roused the household.

Dr. Parish was subject to slight fits
of illness, accompanied by great de-
pression of spirits, his hypo spells,
his wife denominated them. He had
been suffering from one of these at-
tacks, had been confined to his bed sev-
eral days, but upon learning what had
occurred he rose, and hurrying on
his clothes, summoned the young teach-
er to his presence. She appeared irate
and sobbing. Bidding her be seated,
the clergyman exclaimed, "Why, Miss

Nancy, I am surprised at this excite-
ment. Do not let your feelings be
wounded ! John Jewett is a very esti-
mable young man, very estimable. He
is a minister's son, Miss Nancy, his
father was a very worthy man, old Par-
son Jewett of Rowley. Dry your eyes,
and compose your spirits, my dear, no
harm is done, John is a deserving
young man, a minister's son, Miss Nan-
cy, a minister's son."

Somewhat mollified, Miss Nancy re-
tired, and the clergyman called for tea
and toast, entirely cured of his hypo.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Mj r father had reached his goal. By
industry and economy the whole of the
ancestral acres had been secured. His
heart was in his work ; he was a good
agriculturalist, and had given great at-
tention to fruit culture. He had plant-
ed and grafted some two or three hun-
dred apple trees ; there was quite a va-
riety of pears and a thriving peach or-
chard on the place. Grapes grew
spontaneously. The stone walls were
covered with vines which bore luxuri-
antly large, luscious clusters both of
the purple and white grapes. There
was a difference in the quality of this
wild fruit, some being equal if not su-
perior to that produced in our gardens
at the present time. The farm on the
September of that year presented a
tempting array of fruit. The trees
never looked finer than on the twelfth
of the month. The da}* was warm and
cloudy ; at dusk it began to rain. I
had a piece of linen whitening on the

104

REMINISCENCES

grass ; fearing it might mildew, I went
to take it in, and was struck by the sul-
try stillness of the night. After I went
to my chamber, I sat some time at the
open window enjoying the quiet rain
which was falling steadily. About mid-
night I was awakened by the unbarring
of the front door, and mother screaming
' ' something terrible is coming ! " as
she hastily opened and closed it. At
the moment a strange rush and roar
struck my ear, rapidly advancing. I
could liken it to nothing but wagons
rattling over frozen ground, but it
more nearly resembled the noise of a
railroad train. Lightning flashed,
thunder pealed, and rain poured in tor-
rents. Springing from bed, I seized
my sister, a girl of ten, and with the
half awakened child descended the
stairs, and passing through the front
entry, entered the west room. The
rush, roar, crash and din are wholly-
indescribable, accompanied by such
dense darkness, that not a thing was
discernible. Half way across the
front room, we were stopped by a ter-
rible bang and crack, at the same mo-
ment a missile was hurled through the
broken window, which, striking Susan,
fell in the fire-place opposite. The
child shrieked fearfully ; dragging her
by the arm, I rushed into the kitchen
screaming, "Sukey is dead, Suke}' is
dead ! "

The whole family had collected in the
room. The cry was for a light, but in
the fright and confusion not a candle-
stick of the number always there could
be found. I mustered sufficient compo-
sure to bring a candle from the box in
the cellar-way ; raking open the embers
on the hearth it was quickly lighted.
Speedily as this had been effected, by
the time I had put it in the candle-stick

the tornado had passed. As I turned
to place the light on the table, the moon
burst from the clouds, its beams falling

7 O

brightly on the white floor. Father
opened the baqk door. With the ex-
clamation, "I am ruined!" he sallied
back into a chair and buried his face
in his hands. Pale and disma^-ed,
we peered forth. At first nothing was
distinguishable but one general wreck
and ruin, unroofed buildings, prostrate
trees and fences, mixed with the debris
of broken fanning tools and household
utensils. My father was not a man to
long succumb to misfortune. Proceed-
ing to dress, he bade the boys get into
their clothes. Our first thought was of
the cows. As we stepped out to seek
them, we met uncle Thurrell, his son
and hired man. They were still too
much confused to know the extent of
the injury done to their premises, but
the barn was partly unroofed, the corn
barn tipped over, and the cider mill, a
large,jheavy building, had been lifted
from its foundation and carried several
rods. The cows were safe, crouched
together, a frightened group in the field,
and two cossets that had been with them
in the cow-yard had taken refuge in the
barn, the doors of which had been
burst open. The horse had been at
pasture half a mile away, but as the
men and boys went out she came whin-
nying towards them. Whether she ran
or blew home we never knew, but she
evidently had a long story to tell, if it
could have been understood.

Nearly half of the roof of our house
was gone, and a third of that of the
long barn. A large shed had been
blown from the end of the barn and
flung against the end of the house.
The concussion, as this came against the
wall, was the cause of my fright as I

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105

crossed the room with my sister. From
seventy to eighty trees laid on the
ground. A cart loaded with ha^', that
had been left the previous evening front
of the barn, had entirely disappeared,
not a vestige of it was ever seen except-
ing one wheel which la}* near the back
door. Two heavy ox-sleds piled in the
yard, had been carried a considerable
distance ; barrels, boxes, etc. had been
taken from the garret with the roof and
scattered about the yard, amongst these
was a basket of feathers, which had
been set down unharmed b} T the front
door. A brass kettle, that had been
hanging by the back door, was found
some weeks after, battered and bent,
in a swamp a quarter of a mile away.
The potatoes were blown from the hills.
The shed that had come from the barn
had shielded the wood-pile, and the
milk-pails at the end of the house were
found hanging upon the stakes.

Upon examination it was found that
about the same number of trees had
been uprooted on uncle ThurrelTs place
as ours ; the Doles also sustained some
injury to their orchard, but their build-
ings stood below the track of the hur-
ricane. On Ilsley's hill, the barn doors
and the back door of the house were
unhinged, and the cow-yard fence was
thrown down. Jonathan Ilsley, going
home from a party, to his surprise,
found the cows in the corn field ; as he
drove them home, he saw the injury to
the premises. Hastening into the
house he awoke the family to learn what
had happened, but not a soul could tell ;
their slumbers had been so sound, the
storm had not awakened them.

Farther on, the barn of Mr. Daniel
Ordway was entirely demolished. Da}~-
light disclosed a straight line of pros-
trate trees, the path of the tornado as

it had passed over Bradford woods, but
after leaving Mr. Ordway 's, little dam-
age was done ; its track was, however,
traced to a wharf in Newburyport,
where it overturned a small building.

The next morning we learned that a
small house, about four miles above us
in Bradford had been destroyed, one
child killed and the rest of the family
injured. The furniture of this house
was widely scattered. A bonnet be-
longing to the mistress of the place be-
ing found in the lower parish of West
Newbury, some distance beyond Ord-
wa}"'s barn. Before sunrise Mr. Ste-
phen Noyes from the main road coming
over Crane-neck street, on his way to
the grist mill at Byfield, to his conster-
nation descried the havoc on the top of
the hill. Scarcely crediting his sight,
he drew rein at Mr. Pillsbury's. The
family had just risen ; neither they nor
that of then- opposite neighbor, Mr.
Stephen Little, had been awakened by
the tornado. In a body these neigh-
bors hastened to our house. At that
moment, David Goodrich, a young man
residing a quarter of a mile below, rode
furiously up the lane. The party that
Mr. Ilsley had attended, had been at
his house. Dancing had continued till
past twelve ; in the merriment no one
had heeded the shower, and when the
company dispersed the sky was clear,
and the moon was shining. Going to
the barn in the morning, and chancing
to glance up the hill, to his utter amaze-
ment and fright, he saw the devasta-
tion. Stopping neither for coat nor
saddle, he mounted his horse and gal-
loped to our aid. The neighborhood,
and ere long, the whole town was
aroused ; many came from B}'field, and
some from Newburyport. Bands were
organized, and everybody went to
14

106

REMINISCENCES

work with a will to repair the dam-
age. Amongst the first and most
zealous, was Mr. Edward Hill. By
seven o'clock he came in bearing his
tools ; with a perfectly rational air he
quietly inspected the buildings, then
set to work with an industry which
continued until the premises were again
in order.

Derricks were rigged, and the process
of resetting the apple trees commenced.
The hurricane came Wednesday night ;
before sunset Saturda}' evening every
tree had been replaced, and the build-
ings covered. Nothing remained un-
done, but the repairing of fences, and
a general setting to rights of small
things about the house and grounds.
I believe that even* one of those trees
lived, some presenting rather a crooked
and gnarled appearance, but \-ear by
year they bore a goodly burden, and
several are still standing vigorous and
fruitful.

CHAPTER XXVTI.

Prior to my birth there had been an
exodus of Xewbury people to the wilds
of New Hampshire ; Littles, Gerrishs,
Coffins, Pillsburys, Pearsons and Dodg-
es. These settled in the town of Bos-
cawen. The Littles established them-
selves on a long and high hill, much
resembling " Crane-neck in their native
town. There is a legend " that the Lit-
tles always settled on high ground, and
purchased the land that joined them."
Not a lovelier spot could have been
selected than "Little's Hill." Kear-
sarge uprearing its lofty head near by,
and the Blackwater meandering in the
distance. A tract of land belonging to

the estate of the'father of David Em-
ery, was located in Boscawen ; thither
Mr. Colman annually drove a herd of
cows for pasturage, the milking and
cheese-making being done in the fami-
ly of Mr. Joseph Little. In this way
the sons of the Byfield household be-
came almost domesticated in the place.
For several years it had been the cus-
tom for these Boscawen farmers, du-
ring the winter leisure, to go to Mas-
sachusetts and purchase fresh fish,
which, in a frozen state, were taken
in box sleds drawn by a span of
horses, to Montreal in Canada, where
they met with a ready sale at renumer-
ative price during Lent. A return load
of furs and other articles rendered
these trips exceeding!}- profitable.

Having from boyhood heard the ac-
counts of these journeys, David Em-
ery conceived a strong desire to visit
Montreal and try his luck in a venture
there. On the twenty-seventh of De-
cember, he joined a party consisting of
Messrs. Enoch and Joseph Gerrish.
Mr. Nathan Carter and a Mr. Clough.
After a month's absence, he returned
highly delighted with the trip, which
had combined both pleasure and profit.

I was* making my usual winter visit
in town and had gone to pass a day at
Mr. Jeremiah Column's. A shadow
darkened the window ; glancing up. to
our surprise, as he had not been expect-
ing for a week, whom should we espy
but David Emery. The dinner hour
was enlivened by the young man's
graphic account of the journey. His
companions were a jolly set. the mam-
little blunders and mishaps inseparable
from such a trip, had given amusement
rather than annoyance. The inconven-
ience of the small and crowded houses
of entertainment had been received in

OF A NONAGENARIAN".

107

the same spirit. I never yet saw a
Gerrish that could not extract some fun
from his surroundings, let them be ever
so dismal. Mr. Emer}- had been ex-
ceedingly entertained with the novelt}'
of French Canadian life. He was
pleased with their stoves, and especially
praised their bread. Montreal im-
pressed him favorably, though the cold
was so intense during the whole of his
stay, that " you are freezing," was the
hourly cry from one person to another
on the street. Notwithstanding the
bitter weather he managed to see the
cit}'. His busines brought him in con-
tact with the officers of the garrison,
and lie made many pleasant acquaintan-
ces, and was shown much attention and
hospitality. He attended high mass at
the cathedral, thus getting a sight of va-
rious dignitaries, and a knowledge of
the pomp of the service of that church
to which he had been introduced in the
wilderness. A description of a swap
of horses on the plains of Abraham,
elicited peals of laughter. Thither the
farmers around Montreal were wont to
gather on certain days for the barter
and sale of horses. One of Mr. Em-
ery's horses having become quite lame,
he was desirous to exchange if for the
home journey*, but totally unacquainted
with French, he was at a loss how to
manage. Having spoken to his friends
upon the subject, he was directed to
ride out to the plains, he would find the
dealers drawn up in a line, he must
ride out before them, waving his whip
and uttering an indescribable cry, some-
thing not belonging to an} r known lan-
guage, but which was peculiar!}* ludi-
crous. Doing as directed, he made a
good exchange, procured a strong, kind
horse. His load home consisted of
sewing-silk and furs. He brought me

some splendid sable skins, which were
made into an elegant muff and tippet,
the tippet, a deep cape with long ends,
and the muff of the huge dimensions
worn in those days. This was my first
visit to Newburyport since General
Peabody's family had taken possession
of their fine new mansion on State,
corner of Harris street, the lower half
of the present Merrimac House

The estate upon which my uncle's
palatial residence was built, had for-
merly extended up State, nearly to
High, and down to the estate of
Dr. Lowell, afterward the site of the
Tracj- mansion, thence it ran back to
Green street. Harris street was cut
through the grounds, thus deriving its
name. The Harrises had been a dis-
tinguished colonial family. The Rev.
Henry Harris, the father of Benjamin
Harris, the proprietor of the State
street property, was one of the first
missionaries sent from England, to fill
the rectorship of King's Chapel, Bos-
ton. The oldest daughter of Benja-
min Harris, who was an enterprising
merchant, married Joseph Hooper, a
son of "King Hooper" of Marblehead.
Mr. Hooper, a loyalist, left this country
with man}- others of like view in 1774.
He never returned, and his property
in Marblehead was confiscated. His
wife reside* in the Harris mansion un-
til her death,' when Gen. Peabody pur-
chased it. A handsome house of the
ante-Revolutionary style, the new pro-
prietor was by many strongly urged
not to build, but three-storied brick
houses were going up on all sides, and
my uncle concluded to follow the fash-
ion.

The Harris mansion was sold to E.
and I. Swett, and moved to Maryborough
street. The new house, in the archi-

108

REMINISCENCES

tecture common for a genteel residence
at that period, was a square, brick struc-
ture, with a flat roof edged by a wooden
balustrade, a portico over the front en-
trance on State street, and a side door,
with a long L and shed extending to the
stable on Harris street. In the rear
stretched a garden handsomely laid out
the trim parterres then in vogue, and well
stocked with choice flowers and fruits.
The principal entrance opened into a
hall, a door leading to the garden at the
lower end. To the left two parlors
opened to each other b}* folding doors ;
to the right was the sitting or dining
room, and across the end entry came
the kitchen. The chambers in both
stories corresponded to the rooms be-
low ; and from the upper stovy and the
roof a magnificent view of the sur-
rounding countn', the river and bay,
were obtained. In the L a large outer
kitchen had been fitted with a ' Rum-
ford Cookery." This was a' huge con-
trivance of brick and masouiy invented
b}' the celebrated Count Rurnford. It
had several boilers of different sizes,
and other devices to facilitate domestic
purposes, with apertures under each
for a wood fire. The furnishing of
this new house corresponded to it in
elegance : that of the best room was
handsomely carved mahogany with cov-
erings of a golden tinted dftmask, and
curtains to match ; with marble top ta-
bles, and mai'ble mantels and hearths,
which were imported from Italy. A
marble topped side-boad and a piano
had been purchased in Paris ; the carpets
were from English looms, and the rest
of the furniture was as splendid as
American warehouses could furnish.

During my visit aunt Peabody invi-
ted some of the neighboring young la-
dies and gentlemen to tea ; thus I was

introduced to a circle, most of whom
became life-long friends. There were
the Misses Balch, their brothers and Mr.
Hudson, (Miss Fanny Balch was not
then married.) the Misses Frothingham
and their brother Mr. Henry Frothing-
ham, and Mr. John Chickering. Each
of this merry group, including my
cousin, Sophronia Peabody, four years
nry junior, have finished their earthly
career, and gone to the eternal home ;
I alone am left to tell the tale.

CHAPTER XXVHI.

A farm adjoining my grandfather
Little's was owned by two brothers. Jo-
siah and Amos Hill. In 1806 these
gentlemen sold the estate to my uncle
Enoch Smith, and, in company with
Mr. Frank Brown, repaired to a town-
ship in the District of Maine, on the
Pleasant river, a tributary of the
Peuobscot, some forty miles above Ban-
gor. A settlement was begun on the
river, called Brownville, in honor of
Mr. Moses Brown of Xewburyport,
who held a large interest in the loca-
tion. Mills were erected at the falls on
the river, and farms were cleared from
the forest. Fifty acres of land was
presented to airy settler who would
erect buildings and cultivate a farm.

This flitting caused a great excite-
ment in our quiet town. We had the
bustle of uncle Enoch's family moving
to then* new home, and though we were
glad of the additional room, the house
seemed strangely still and lonely. with
only grandm'am and aunt Sarah.

Maj. Josiah Hill was an energetic,

OF A

109

enterprising man, and both himself
and brother were a loss to our com-
munity. The preparations for this
new home in the wilderness were nec-
essarily upon a large scale, many hands
were kept busy for several weeks.

This enterprise proved eminently
successful. Each year some of the
emigrants visited then- old home, and
brought glowing accounts of the settle-
ment. Maj. Hill's oldest son, Samuel,
had remained in town, but the third
year after his father's departure, he
concluded to join him. An urgent re-
quest was sent to Hannah Bailey, a
niece of Mrs. Josiah Hill, to accom-
pam r her cousin ; her aunt insisted that
she should come and stay a year.
Hannah was just seventeen, a bright,
black-eyed girl, ambitious and capa-
ble ; fearing nothing, and ready for
anything, it was but natural that she
should be eager for the expedition. Her
father and mother, after a time, gave
a somewhat reluctant consent to the
visit, but most of the family were ve-
hement in their opposition. Aunt Poll,
a maiden sister of Mr. Bailey, was
especially exercised respecting her niece.
" Brother and sister must be clean dis-
traught, to permit that harum, scarum
witch to go sich a jaunt. Wiry, if
she escaped the dangers of the sea ?
there was rivers to cross, and nobodj*
knew how man}' miles of woods to ride
through afore she could get to Major
Hill's. Woods all full of wild beasts,
bears, catamounts and sich like, every
kind of ravenous animals ; she shouldn't
be surprised if the Behemoth of Scrip-
ter was a roving round in them ere
dark, tangled thickets, all full of snakes
and other venomous reptiles."

Notwithstanding aunt Poll's and the
others' remonstrances, Hannah, not

the least daunted at their dire prognos-
tications, sailed in October from New-
bun-port, with her cousin Sam. Hill, in
an old schooner bound for Bangor.
The trip was made in safety. Not
much troubled with sea-sickness, the
novelty was such, Miss Bailey counted
the inconvenience of the voyage as
nought. The weather became unusu-
ally severe for the season, and the ice
formed so fast the skipper was com-
pelled to land his passengers twelve
miles below Bangor. Mr. Hill had
taken his horse, so another must be
procured for his cousin, as there was
no carnage road to Brownville. Pro-
ceeding to Bangor to make arrange-
ments, Mr. Hill unexpectedly found a
younger brother, who had come thither
to pursue his studies through the win-
ter. His horse was to have been taken
home at the first opportunity. It was
young and spirited, but Hannah Bailey
was an experienced and fearless rider,
and it was decided that she should
mount the steed, while her cousin rode
his own horse. The baggage was tak-
en from the trunks and packed in bags,
strapped behind the saddles. Every-
thing made ready, fully equipped, the
cousins commenced the journey. The
road was only a bridle-path through a
dense forest. Streams were to be
forded, fallen trees to be leaped, and
many other difficulties to be surmount-
ed. Miles apart came clearings, where
buildings of logs or slabs uprose amid
fields dotted with burned stumps. Rest
and refreshment were obtained at these
houses. The pair were two daj-s and
nights on the road, but arrived safely
at their destination, somewhat fatigued,
yet highly delighted with the trip.
Miss Bailey remained at her uncle's a
little over a year, then taking advan-

110

REMIXISCEXCES

tage of good sleighing, she came home
with two of her cousins. After my re-
turn from Xewburyport, she paid us a
visit. We were greatly entertained
with her lively and graphic description
of the journeys to and fro, and her
life in the forest. The account of the
two days ride through the woods, eh' ci-
ted peals of laughter, such queer di-
lemmas and ludicrous accidents pre-
sented themselves. Her young horse
needed a firm hand; at the first run-
ning stream he hesitated, after a mo-
ment's consideration, gathered for a
leap, and sprang across ; Hannah kept
the saddle, and in this way was taken
across every brook on the road. The
elder horse witnessing his companion's
agility, proceeded to copj r his example.
After Miss Bailee' had become domes-
ticated in Brownville, in company with
her cousin, Charlotte Hill, she paid
frequent visits to the farm houses in
the vicinity, but the two horses could
never be persuaded to wade a stream ;
the}' invariably took them at a filing
leap, not a bit to the discomfiture of
the gay girls.

Maj. Hill had put up a frame house,
but the hearths and the lower half of
the chimney were of stone, the upper
being topped out with slabs filled in
with clay. There was a stoue oven,
though light could be discerned through
a chink in the back, there was plenty
of wood to heat it and.it baked well.

Bolts had not been set in the grist
mill. The wheat flour for the nicest
cooking was sifted through a fine hair
seive, but the bread for common use
was stirred up from the coarse flour, and
no lighter, sweeter, or more wholesome
bread was never tasted. As there
were no apples, in the early summer,
before the wild fruit came, pies were

made from young sorrel leaves, which
were considered very nice.

Though the nearest neighbor was a
quarter of a mile away, the winter
passed cheerfully. The Indians were
frequent guests, and were received
with kindly hospitality. Their unique
appearance, broken English, original
ideas and untutored manners, were a
never failing source of interest and
amusement.

The next spring, 1809, Maj. Hill
built a brick chimnej: in his house, the
brick hearths were the first in the
towhship.

The settlement was increased by the
arrival of Dr. Wilkins. his wife and
five children, from Billerica. The
next } r ear the Rev. Samuel May and
his family, moved thither from Boston.
The clergyman came as a missionary
for that part of the District, preaching
in Brownville on alternate sabbaths.
About the same time a lawyer, Col.
Kinsman, with his sons John and Hen-
ry came to the place from Waterville.

During the winter Miss Bailey made
herself generally useful ; in the spring,
Maj. Hill fitted a room for a school,
and installed his niece as instructress
of the children scattered far and wide
amid the woods. The gidd}- young
girl proved an excellent teacher, elcit-
ing the affection of her pupils and the
respect of their parents. Money was
scarce in this primitive settlement, the
school-mistress had no regular salary,
but she received several handsome
presents, amongst which was a nice
dress, and a muff and tippett of rich
fur.

I recall how the afternoon's mirth
was increased at tea. by the wry faces
made by my j-ouugest brother, Joseph
Little, over a dish of ale wives. Fro m

OF A

Ill

its earliest settlement, fishing had been

business in the town. Fishing
grounds were laid out, which were pri-
vate propert}'. I have the deed of one
that descended to David Emery from
his grandfather John Emery.

Our neighbor, Hannah Pillsbury, had
some years previous, married Mr.
Abraham Brown, of Byfield. Left a
widow while her children were still
young. Mrs. Brown returned to the pa-
ternal roof, bringing with her five sons,
two of which were twins. The Brown
boys and my brothers were intimate
companions.

That afternoon Joe. and his crony.
Oliver Brown, had been to the river to
look at the fishing, and each had re-
ceived a bunch of alewives. Highly
delighted, Joe. dressed his for supper.
Father told him that they were so bony
he would not eat them, but to gratify her
son, mother fried the fish. The lad
sat down to the table with a keen ap-
petite, but soon concluded that alewives
were not exactly the thing for a hungry
man to eat in a hurry.

In 1808 Dr. Woods accepted an in-
vitation to preside over the Theological
Seminary at Andover. This institution
had found munificient patrons in two
citizens of Newburyport, Mr. Moses
Brown, and William Bartlett Esq. Mr.
Bartlett had been enthusiastically zeal-
ous in its establishment, an interest
which continued to the end of life. Dr.
Woods' departure was deplored by his
friends, their grief however was assuag-
ed by the pride and pleasure experi-
enced, at their favorite's advancement in
place and honor. Aunt Ruth Little
could scarcely reconcile herself to the
change, but aunt Jud}' Dole said, "Let
him go ; he was fitter for a Pope to that
new Hopkinsian college, than for a coun-

try parson. She was willing to throw"
all her old shoes after him for good
luck." Several years elapsed without
a settled minister. The pulpit was
mostly supplied from the Andover Sem-
inar}*. Amongst these young men were
the afterwards distinguished missiona-
ries, Messrs Newell and Judson. A
great commotion had arisen in the par-
ish respecting the meeting-house. The
old building had become dilapidated,
almost unfit for use. Every one conce-
ded the necessity of a new house, but
its site was the bone of contention.
Some, mostly the more elderly members
of the society, were desirous to retain
the old location, their plea being that
it was exactly in the centre of the par-
ish : the others very wiseby objected to
climbing the almost inaccessible hill
upon which the old structure was perch-
ed, urging that it would be better for a
few to go a slight distance farther on
level ground, than all to climb the high
and steep eminence. Agreement could
not be reached. The old meeting-house
grew worse and worse, snow drifted in
at winter, and rain dripped through the
cracks and crevices in summer, still the
contrary parties could not be brought
to agree, people went to meeting be-
cause it was customary and considered
sinful to remain at home, but there was
a sad lack of interest and union in the
parish for quite a period.

CHAPTER XXIX.

My ancestors, with the exception of
the Johnson branch, came to Newbury
either in the band that accompanied
Messers Parker and Noyes from Aga-

112

REMINISCENCES

warn to Quascacunquen in the year
1635, or joined the settlement soon af-
ter. From the Noj-es grandmother,
am descended from the Rev. James
No}-es, whose brother Nicholas, tradi-
tion asserts, was the first to leap on
shore when the emigrants landed. This
spot is supposed to be on the north
side of the river Parker, near the pres-
ent bridge, and the colonists located
about the lower green, Oldtown, where
the first meeting-house was built.
Thomas Parker, the pastor, was born
in Wiltshire, England, in 1595 ; he
was the only son of Robert Parker, an
eminent scholar and an active non-
conformist. The Noyes family are of
Norman descent ; originally the name
was spelt Noye. From the conquest
the race have been distinguished for
influence and scholarship. In 14 and
15 Hen. VIII, William Noyes, of Ereh-
fort, was assessed for the subsidy at
80, and paid 4 3'early. In 1540 he
became possessed of the prebend of
^rchfort with its dependencies, and
died in 1557, leaving a considerable
property to a large' family, of whom
John was M. P. for Laine, A. D., 1600,
and Robert the elder, who succeeded to
the prebend, having purchased in 1574
for his eldest son, Robert, the manor
and estate of King's Hatherdene, in
Weghill near Andover. His cousin,
Peter Noyes, was also of Weghill and
Andover of Berks, in which county,
for many generations his descendants
owned the estate of Trunkwell, in the
parish of Springfield, acquired b}- a
marriage with Agnes, daughter and
heiress of John Noyes of that place who
died in 1607. Peter Noyes had a sec-
ond son Richard, and a daughter, Joice,
married to the Rev. Robert Wield, D. D.
James Noyes, the teacher^ at Quasca-

cunquen, was born in Choulderton,
Wiltshire, England, in 1608. His
father was a minister in the same town,
a gentleman of superior ability and ed-
ucation. His mother was a sister of
the learned Robert Parker. Mr. Noyes
was educated at Oxford, and for a time
previous to his emigration to America,
he was associated with his cousin,
Thomas Parker, in teaching at New-
bury, where Mr. Parker preached. In
honor of these gentlemen, the settle-
ment received the name of Newbury.
In 1634, shortly before leaving his na-
tive land. Mr. Noyes was married to
Sarah, eldest daughter of Joseph Brown
of Southampton. He had six sons,
and three daughters ; Sarah, who died
at the age of eleven, Rebecca, and a
second Sarah. Through life the cous-
ins, Parker and Noyes, continued in
the closest intimacy. The}' taught in
the same school in England, came to
America in the same ship, were pastor
and teacher in the same church, and as
Mr. Parker remained a bachelor, they
lived in the same house. For a few
}-ears after the settlement of the town
their residence was on the west side of
the lower green, but on the removal of
the meeting-house, Mr. Noj-es built a
house in 1646, or soon after, which is
still standing on Parker street, a fine
old fashioned mansion, still owned and
occupied by the clergyman's descend-
ants. A lot of salt meadow, willed by
Mr. Parker to his Noyes relatives, has
never been bought nor sold, but through
the descending generations has succes-
sively passed from father to son. The
Rev. James Noj'es died in the forty-
eighth year of his age, Oct. 22d, 1656.
His character is thus delineated by Mr.
Parker :

"Mr. James Noyes my worthy col-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

113

league in the ministry of the gospel, was
a man of singular qualifications, in piety
excelling, an implacable enemy to all
heresy and schism and a most able war-
rior against the same. He was of a
reaching and ready apprehension, a
large invention, a most profound judg-
ment, a rare, tenacious and comprehen-
sive memory, fixed and immovable in
his well grounded conceptions, sure in
words and speech, without rashness,
gentle and mild in all expressions, with-
out passion or provoking language, and
as he Avas a notable disputant so he
never would provoke his adversary, sav-
ing by the short knocks and heavy-
weight of argument. He was of so
loving, compassionate and humble car-
riage that I believe never any were ac-
quainted with him, but did desire
the continuance of his society and ac-
quaintance. He was a most excellent
counsellor in doubts, and could strike
at a hair's breadth like the Benjamites
and expedite the entangled out of the
briars. He was courageous in dangers
and still was apt to believe the best,
and make fair weather in a storm. He
was much honored and esteemed in the
country, and his death was much be-
wailed. I think that he may be reckoned
among the greatest worthies of the
age."

Joseph, oldest son of the Rev. James
Noyes, born Oct. 15th, 1637, remained
in Xewbury, where, for a number of
years, he was one of the selectmen. He
died in 1717.

James, the second son, born March
llth, 1640; graduated at Harvard in
1659 ; was a preacher in Stonington,
Conn., in 1668; was ordained there
Sept. 10th. 1G76, and died Dec. 1719,
after a ministry of over fifty years.

Moses, the third son, was born Dec.

6th, 1643 ; graduated at Harvard in
1659 ; he was the first minister in
Lyme, Conn., where he died Nov.
10th, 1726.

John, the fourth son, born June 3d,
1645 ; was a member of the Ancient
and Honorable Artillery Company, Bos-
ton.

Col. Thomas, the fifth son, born
Aug. 10th, 1648 ; remained in New-
bury where he was a prominent'citizen,
representing the town in the General
Court.

William, the sixth son, born Sept.
22d, 1653, married Sara Cogswell, Nov.
6th, 1685. Children : John, born July
27th, 1686, William, born Sept. 1st,
1688; Sarah, born May 10th, 1691,
and died Dec. 3d, 1703 ; Moses, born
Jan. 27th, 1694, and died Feb. 16th;
Susanna, born Feb. 25th, 1696 ; Mary,
born May 24th, 1699, and died Dec.
16th, 1703 ; Sarah, born Dec. 5th,
1703 ; Parker, born Jan. 17th, 1705.

John, oldest son of William and
Sara (Cogswell,) Noyes, married Tab-
itha Dole, and moved to the West
Precinct, Newbury, where he became
a leading citizen and deacon of the
church ; his estate was on the main
road near the Bradford line. Children
were : William, Sara, Elizabeth, and
Parker, who died in childhood. Wil-
liam married Lydia Morse ; their chil-
dren were : Timothy, who married
Betty Dean, Enoch, who married Sarah
Emery, John, who married Elizabeth
Pillislmry, and Molly, who married
Webster Bailey.

Sara, the oldest daughter of deacon
Noyes, remained single ; Elizabeth,
the second daughter, married Capt.
James Smith of Crane-neck hill her
second husband was Capt. Edmund
Little.

114

REMINISCENCES

Mr. Nicholas Xoyes, brother of
Rev. James Xoyes, was born in 1614;
he married Mary Cutting. :i sister of
Capt. John Cutting who came from
London to Charlestown, thence to Xew-
buiy about 1642. Their children were,
Mary, bora Oct. loth. 1641. married
John French. Hannah, born Oct.
31st, 1643, married Peter Cheney,
May 14th. 1663. 2d, John Atkinson,
born June 3d. 1700. died Jan. 5th.
1705. John, born Jan. 20th, 1646,
married Mary Poor. Xov 13th. 1668,
died in 1691. Rev. Nicholas, born Dec.
22d. 1647, died unmarried. Cutting,
born Sept. 23d. 1649. married Eliza-
beth Knight; died Oct. 25th, 1734.
Sarah, born Sept. 13th. 1651. died
Feb. 20th. 1652. Sarah, born Aug.
22d. 1653. married Matthew Pettingel,
April 13th. 1674. Timothy, bom
June 23d. 1655. married Mary Knight.
Jan. 13th, 1680 ; died in 1 710. James,
born May 15th, 1657. married Hannah
Knight. March 31st. 16x4 : died in
1723. Abigail, born April. 1657. mar-
ried Simeon French of Salisbury. May
8th, 1707. Rachel, born March 20th.
1661 , married James Jackman. Thom-
as, bom June 20th. 1663. married Sa-
rah , lived in Ilaverhill. and

died previous to Dec. 30th, 1695. Re-
becca, born May 18th, 1665. died Dec.
21st, 1683.

Mr. Xoyes was one of the most in-
fluential members of the infant settle-
ment, representing it in the General
Court, and was also a deacon of the
church. He died Xov. 23d. 1701.
aged 83.

Hannah, the wife of James Xoyes.
was the daughter of John Knight, jun..
son of John Knight, who with his
brother, Deacon Richard Knight, came
from Romsey, England, to Newbury,

in 1635. Their children were : Re-
becca, born Jan. 12th. 1685; Joseph.
born Sept. 20th. 1686: Hannah, born
March 13th. 1688 ; Nicholas, born Feb.
9th. 1690. Nathan, born Feb. 5th,
1692 : Ephraim. born Xov. 20th and
died Dec. 19th, 1694; Lydia, born
Xov. 30th. 1695; Ephraim, born Dec.
25th. 1698 ; Benjamin, bora Feb. 22d,
1701; Mary, born March 13th. 1703:
James, born Aug. 19th. 1705.

Capt. Ephraim Xoyes. fifth son of
James and Hannah (Knight) Xoyes.
settled on the main road, in the West
Precinct. Xewbury : he married Abi-
gail, daughter of Jonas and Anne
Platts. and granddaughter of Deacon
Joseph Bailey, of Bradford. Edna.
daughter of Capt Ephraim and Abigail
(Platts) Xoyes. April 7th. 1756. mar
riecl John, son of David and Abigail
(Chase) Emery.

The children of John and Mary
(Poor) Xoyes were : Xicholas. born
May 18th, 1671, married Sarah Lunt.
and settled in Abington before 1718.
Daniel, born Oct. 23d. 1673. married
Judith Knight, Dec. 29th. 1702: died
March 13th. 1716. Mary, born Dec.
1 Oth. 1675. married John Xoyes. John,
born Feb. 19th. 1677. married Ma-
ry Thurlow. Jan. 25th. 1703: died
previous to Xov. 2d. 1719. Martha,
born Dec. 24th. 1679. married Jo.-eph
Lunt. Dec. 29th. 1702: died June
26th, 1706. Nathaniel, born Oct.
28th.. 1681. married Priscilla Merrill;
was inFalrnouth. 1733. Elizabeth, born
Nov. llth. 1684. Moses, born May
22d, 1688. died in 1714. Samuel.
born Feb. 3d, 1692. married Hannah
Poor; lived in Abington previous to
1736.

The children of Daniel and Judith
(Knight) Noyes were : Daniel, born

OF A

115

Oct. 16th, 1703, married Abigail Top-
pan; died April 16th, 1765. Joseph,
born Aug. 6th, 1705, married Elizabeth
Woodman. Xov. 10th, 1726 ; died
Sept. loth, 1781. Joshua, born Jan.
26th. 1707. married Sarah Hale. April
7th. 1730; died Jan. 1808. John,
born May 9th, 1709, married Ann
Woodbridge ; died Aug. 13th, 1759.
Mary, born Nov. 24th. 1710, died
Aug. 1794. Deborah, born May 22d,
1713. married Jacob Knight. Judith,
born Jan. 7th, 1715, married Benjamin
Poor.

The children of Daniel and Abigail
(Toppan) No}~es were: Abigail, born
Dec. 28th, 1728, died Aug. 3d 1731.
Daniel, born Nov. 7th, 1730, died
June 13th, 1735. Zebulon, -
died June llth, 1735. Samuel, born
April 25th, 1737, married Rebecca
Wheeler; died April 1st, 1820. Eb-
enezer, born in 1739, married Hannah
Chase; died Aug. 1767.

Mary and John, twins, born March,
1741. Maiy married, first, Samuel
Somerby, second, Nathaniel Dole ; John
married, first, Sarah Little ; second.
Mary Pierce; died July 18th, 1778.
Abigail, born Oct. 5th, 1744, married
Joseph Moulton ; died Sept. 18th,
1818. Judith, born Nov. 1747, died
Oct. 1832.

The children of Samuel and Rebecca
(Wheeler) Noyes were : Daniel, born
Oct. 22d, 1765, died Dec. 5th, 1768,
Samuel, born May 25th, 1767, married,
first, Jane Moody, Jan. 22d, 1795 ; she
died Nov. 13th, 1802 ; second, Han-
nah, youngest daughter of Joseph Lit-
tle, and widow of James Stickney. who
died Jan. 17th, 1805. Samuel Noyes
died July 12th, 1852, and his widow.
Hannah Noyes, died March 1st, 1861.
Rebecca, born April, 1769. Ebenezer,

born April 26th, 1771, died June 16th,

1794, in the West Indies. Judith,
born July 13th, 1773, died July 17th,
1777. Daniel, born .May 6th. 1775,
died Jan. 7th, 1777. Dr. Nathan, born
April 3d, 1777, died Sept. 1842. Ju-
dith, born Feb. 7th, 1779. married
William Moulton ; died Oct. 1822.

Rev. Nicholas Noyes, graduated at
Harvard 1667, preached in Haddam,
Conn., thirteen years, ordained over
the first society in Salem, Nov. 14th,
1683, and died Dec. 13th, 1717.

Rev. Edmund Noj'es, born March
29th, 1729, graduated at Harvard 1747,
was ordained in Salisbury Nov. 20th,
1751, and died July 12th, 1809.

Ebeuezer Noyes, born in 1739, grad-
uated at Nassau Hall in 1750, was a
physician in Dover, where he died Aug.
llth, 1767.

Rev. Nathaniel Noyes, born Aug.
12th, 1735, graduated at Nassau Hall
in 1759, was ordained in South Hamp-
ton, N. H., Feb. 23d, 1763, dismissed
Dec. 8th, 1800, and died in Newbury-
port Dec. 1810. Sarah, consort
of the Rev. Nathaniel Noyes, died in
South Hampton, May 20th, 1771, aged
25 years, 8 months.

Rev. Thomas Noyes, son of Col.
Thomas No3 r es of the west parish,
Newbur} 7 , graduated at Harvard in

1795, and died young.

Nathan Noyes, M. D., graduated at
Dartmouth, a physician at Newbury-
port.

Rev. Jeremiah Noyes, graduated at
Dartmouth in 1799, ordained Nov. 16,
1803, in Gorham, Maine, and died
Jan. 15th, LS07.

Moody Noyes, Harvard, 1800, died
young.

Daniel Noyes, born Jan. 29th, 1739,

116

REMIXISCEXCES

graduated at Harvard in 1758.
register of probate for Essex, and died
in Ipswich March 21st, 1815.

Joshua Xoyes, born 1739, graduated
at Nassau in 1759 ; was pastor elect of
the church in Kingston, X. H., and
died July 8th, 1773, aged 34.

John Xoyes, born May 9, 1709,
graduated at Harvard in 175:5. and
died Aug. 13th, 1759.

Rev. George Rappall Xoyes, born
March 6th, 1798. graduated at Har-
vard in 1818 ; was ordained in South
Brookfield, Mass., Oct. 30th, 1827;
resettled in Petersham Oct. loth, 1834.
Elected professor in the Divinity school,
Cambridge, in 1840. Received the de-
gree of D. D. the same year. He died
June 3d, 1868, aged 70 years and 3
months. Of Dr. Xo3 - es the late Thom-
as B. Fox thus wrote :

" His outward life was that of a stu-
dent and teacher mainly, and so pre-
sented out few incidents or events to
break the even tenor of its way ; but
by his Christian character, his learning
and his intellectual usefulness to his
pupils and to the cause of sacred liter-
ature, he won the love, respect and
gratitude of all who knew him, as well
as the esteem of such as were only fa-
miliar with him as an author who had
helped them in their inquiries after
truth. Dr. Xoyes graduated in the
class of 1818 which gave fourteen of
its members to the ministry. For sev-
eral years he was pastor of the churches
at South Brookfield and Petersham,
but the greater portion of his days was
spent in the service of his Alma Mater
as tutor in the college and as a profes-
sor on two foundations in the Divinity
school. He first attracted public atten-
tion by his translation of the book of
Job a work that was followed In-

versions of the Psalms and the Proph-
ets. Besides these more elaborate pro-
ductions, he was a contributor of learn-
ed and critical articles to the Christian
Examiner. He was one of the most
diligent and accurate of scholars, and
everything that came from his pen
showed the conscientious fidelity, the
pure, lucid, calm productions of a mind
seeking always to be judicially impar-
tial in its investigations and in the
statement of its conclusions. His
scholarship was large and thorough,
and his industry unwearied and unre-
mitted even through seasons of physi-
cal weakness and distress.

Up almost to the hour of his decease,
he ^Yas engaged in correcting with
sedulous care the closing proof sheets
of a translation of the Xew Testa-
ment. The strength and clearness of
his mental powers, the candor and
fearlessness of his moral nature, the
generosit}' and justice of his liberality,
will be acknowledged by all who had
the privilege of listening to his explana-
tory defence of the Cam-bridge Theolog-
ical School, at the last meeting of the
Alumni of that institution. His address
on that occasion obtained a solemn im-
pression from his bodily infirmity, which
had not dimmed the healthful bright-
ness of his mind, or chilled the warmth
of his heart. He spoke as it were on
the border of the grave, and he spoke
as one who humbly but trustfully
awaited a judgment more searching
than any human judgment can be. We
allude to this, his last public discourse,
because in it were seen the trained
thinker, the honest and catholic man,
and the faithful Christian teacher ; the
culmination as it were, of a life of
many virtues and graces, consecrated
to learning and to the highest interesst

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

117

of humanity ; a life none the less use-
ful, noble, and brave, because mostly
passed in the study, the lecture room,
and inthe retirement of comparative pri-
vacy, away from the bustle of the world
and unattended by circumstances that
attract the public gaze. Such a life
could not but win the reverent regard of
all who witnessed and were benefited b}*
it, and the memory of him who lived it,
will be cherished as the memory of a
disciple who uniformly sought to use
the talents intrusted to him, as one
who never forgot that he must give an
account of his stewardship."

The following is a tribute from Dr.
W. W. Newell. ' 'The death of a work-
er in the quiet paths of science is
scarcely noticed by the world ; and yet
few men of more active life ma}' have
exercised so deep an influence ; so it
was with the late George R. Noyes,
D. D. For more than twenty years his
was the leading mind in the Divinity
school at Cambridge, and did more than
an}- other to form the minds of the stu-
dents, who will alwaj-s cherish his name
with love. It was from him they ac-
quired the scientific spirit, patient,
calm, impartial ; in him the}- saw the
example of a truly devotional mind,
combined with the most searching anal-
ysis ; they learned to respect his prac-
tical wisdom, and to receive his opin-
ions almost as oracles. Such homage
from young, free, and independent
minds implies great qualities. They
were sure' no word would fall from his
lips not thoroughly weighed and tested.
They could trust a moderation which,
always forbore to dogmatize, and to
express even an opinion on doubtful
questions, however fascinating the temp-
tation to leap an unbridged chasm, and
when he did express an opinion they

knew it was no result of individual
preference, or of dogmatic assumption
but honest fruit of the widest compar-
ison and the strictest inquiry. In his
own department, the exegesis of the
Scriptures, his' scholars believed him
unapproached in America. Few could
hear him and not admit that Biblical
interpretation was now a science whose
principles were fixed, and that the vast
difference of results arise far more from
the different opinions brought to the
study, than from the difficulty of the
subject. His translation of the poeti-
cal books of the Old Testament is, we
believe, the best in an}- language, com-
bining a correct interpretation with the
spirit of the original. His lectures il-
lustrated to an even greater degree the
high qualities of his mind, his great
shrewdness, profound scholarship, and
freedom from prejudice. But opinions,
which he arrived at b^y individual
study, and held when they were little
supported and indeed almost unknown
in this country, have since become
widely prevalent among scholars every-
where. With these virtues of the
scholar he combined keen wit, and
great kindness and tolerance. His stu-
dents did not admire him more than
they reverenced him ; and his whole
life was in his work. No one could
hear him in prayer and not revere his
profoundly religious spirit, and wonder
at such a union of qualities. No man
lives who can fill the place he took in
health ; and, if in life the general ig-
norance and prejudice in regard to
these subjects prevented general recog-
nition of his merits, in the history of
mind his name will stand among the
first of American students who brought
a scientific treatment to this branch of
inquiry. In the minds of his students

118

REMXNTSCElSrCES

his memory will always live and his in-
fluence always work."

Francis V. Noyes, born Sept. 22cl,
1809, graduated at Dartmouth, receiv-
ed the degree of M. D. at Harvard
Aug. 1831. He was a physician in
Newburyport until 1844, and at present
is a resident of Billerica.

Rev. Daniel Parish Noyes, born
June 4th, 1820, graduated Aug. 1840,
at Yale College. Taught school till
1843; was a tutor in Yale till 1847;
student at Andover till 1849 ; pastor
of the 3d Presbyterian church. Brook-
lyn, X. Y., from April 1849, till Jan.
1854. Secretary of the American
Home Missionary Society from Jan.
1854, till June, 1865. Secretary of
Home Evangelization in Massachusetts
from Jan. 1865, till 1873. While prose-
cuting this work, he founded a church at
Pigeon Cove, Cape Ann, acting as pas-
tor for a time ; Oct. 1877 was install-
ed pastor of a church in Wilmington.

Joseph M. Xoyes, a distinguished
teacher, and Henry Durant Xoyes of
the firm of Xoyes, Snow and Co., pub-
lishers, 13^ Bromfield street, Boston.
These are grandsons of the Rev. Elijah
Parish. Isaac Parsons Xoyes, born
Dec. 10th, 1822 ; appointed assistant
postmaster at Xewburyport, June 19th,
1861 ; appointed postmaster May 2d,
1877 ; served on the board of overseers
of the poor three }*ears, in the common
council one year, secretary of school
board six years, re-elected on school
committee in 1878 for two years.
William Henry Xoyes, D. M. D., born
in Xewbury, July 28, 1825 ; graduated
at Harvard University in dental medi-
cine, March 9th, 1870 ; married Mav
14, 1848, Sarah M. Parshley of Straf-
ford, X. H., Children: Ella Ada;
Earnest Henry, born Xov. 20th, 1853 ;

graduated at Bowdoin College July
8th 1875, now studjing medicine at Har-
vard.

George E. L. Xoyes, D. M. D., son
of Greo. W. Xoyes, born in Xewbury-
port Aug. 28th, 1850, graduated at
Harvard University in dental medicine
March 10, 1872 ; married Xov. 27,
1878, Mary Hill Goodwin of Xewbury-
port, daughter of Daniel A. Goodwin.

CHAFTER XXIX.

' Whence cometh Smith, be he knight or be he

squire,
But from the Smith that forgeth at the fire."

The arms of Smith, granted in some
remote age to some meritorious Mack-
smith, are :

SABLE, ON A FESSE DAXCETTE ARGENT SEVEN' BILLETS

OP THE FIELD. CREST, A SALAMANDER COUCH ANT

REGARDANT, DUCALLY GORGED, IN FLAMES

FBOPKB.

From the settlement on Crane-neck
hill four generations bearing the name
of James Smith have succeeded each
other on the homestead, and two pre-
ceded them at Old town, making six in
America. The first of this patroi^-mic
of whom I have record were Sir James

The Noyes arms are

ARGENT, GARB OR, THREE MULLETS GULES COUNTERCHANGED. CREST. DOVE BEARING OLIVE BRANCH.

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

119

Smith, the first baronet of Isfield, who
was the eldest son of Sir James Smith
Knt., Lord Mayor of London in 1685,
who was the second son of Sir Robert
Smith, of Upton, Bart., who descend-
ed from Robert Smith, citizen and dra-
per of London and Stoke Prior in Wor-
cestershire. This Robert belonged to
an ancient family, the Smiths of Cuerd-
le}', in Lancaster. Robert Smith and
his descendants Sir Robert, Sir James
the Knt., and Sir James the Baronet,
bore arms :

AZl.'RE, TWO BARS WAVY ERMINE ON A CHIEF OK, A

DEMI-LION RAMPANT 1SSITANT SABLE. CHEST

AN OSTRICH GULES, IN THE BEAK A

HORSE SHOE ARGENT.

This coat was confirmed by Flower
Norroy on the 7th of July, 1579, to
Thomas Smith, son and heir of Sir
Laurence Smith of Hough. Motto :
Duriora virtus Virtue tries harder
things.

The same arms were borne by Fer-
dinando Dudle}' Lea Smith, esq., great
grandson of William Smith of Stoke
Prior, County Worcester by the Hon.
Anne Lea, his wife, eldest sister and
co-heiress of Ferdinando Dudley, Lord
Dudley of Halesraven Grange.

Edmund is another patronymic that
has descended through the generations.
It was derived from the marriage of
Margaret, daughter of Thomas Smith
of Cockermouth, with Edmund Wil-
niot of Hampshire. Arms :

SABLE ON A EKSS); ENGRAILED OH HETWEEX THREE
SQUIRRELS SEJANT AKGENT, EACH HOLD-
ING A MARIGOLD SLIPPED PROP-
ER, AS MANY HERALD-
IC FOUNTAINS.

Thomas Smith came from Romsey.
England, with his wife Rebecca, in the
ship James, to Ipswich, Mass., in 1635,
thence to Newbury in 1638, and set-
tled on the farm now owned by David
Smith. He died April 22, 1666. His

children were : Thomas, born in 1639,
who was drowned by falling into a clny-
pit on his way to school, Dec. 6th,
1648 ; Rebecca, born Feb.' 20th, 1641,
married Aug. 4th, 1663, Stephen
Swett ; Lieut. James Smith, born
Sept. 10th, 1645, married July 26th,
1667, Sarah Coker. He was drowned
at Anticosti in the disastrous expe-
dition to Quebec, in October, 1690.
John, born March 9th, 1648, mar-
ried Rebecca Poor Nov. 26th, 1667;
Matthias, born Oct. 27th, 1652 ; Thom-
as, born July 7th, 1654, was killed by
the Indians at Bloody Brook in 1696.
This was in King Philip's war. As
Philip was on the Connecticut river it
became necessary for the English to
establish an opposing force in some
convenient position. As Hadley was
selected, an increased supply of pro-
visions in that place was needed. A
considerable quantity of . wheat being
preserved in stacks at Deerfield, it was
deemed expedient to have it thresh-
ed and brought to Hadley. Captain
Lathrop and his company volunteered
to proceed to Deerfield and protect the
convoy. This company consisted of
the flower of the population of Essex
her hopeful } T oung men all called
out of the towns belonging to that
county. Of the twenty- three men im-
pressed from Newbmy, on the 5th, 6th
and 27th of August, to go against the
Indian enemy, were Hemy Bodwell, who
married Bethia, daughter of John and
Maiy (Webster) Emerj T , JohnToppan,
Thomas Smith, Samuel Hills and Jon-
athan Emeiy. The}' arrived safely at
Deerfield, threshed the wheat,' placed
it in eighteen carts, and while on their
return through South Deerfield, as they
were stopping to gather grapes, which
hung in clusters in the forest that lined

120

REMINISCENCES

the narrow road, they were surprised
by an ambascade of Indians, outnum-
bering Capt. Lathrop's company ten to
one, who poured upon them a murder-
ous fire ; not more than seven or eight
of the eighty men in the company es-
caped. Sergeant Thomas Smith, Sam-
uel Stevens, his brother John Stevens,
and John Littlehale were killed ; John
Toppan, who was wounded in the
shoulder, concealed himself in a -water-
course then almost dry, and drew grass
and weeds over his head, so that,
though the Indians sometimes stepped
directly over him, he was not discover-
ed. Hemy Boclwell had his left arm
broken b} r a musket ball, but being a
man of great strength and courage, he
siezed his gun in his right hand and
swung it round his head, and so forced
his way through the Indians by whom
he was surrounded. John Toppan
brought home the sword of Sergeant
Thomas Smith, and it is preserved in
the family at the old homestead as a
most precious relic. At the recent sec-
ond centennial celebration of the battle
Bloody Brook, it was again borne to the
field by- Edmund Smith, of Newbury-
port, where it was the sole memento of
that cruel fray. The rapier excited
universal attention, being regarded
with awe and reverence. Mothers led
up their little children to touch the
sword of one, whose arm that wielded
it, had been mouldering in the dust just
two hundred years that day.

"An inventory of the lands, goods
and chattels of Thomas Smith, late of
Newbury, who was slayne when Capt.
Lathrop was slayne, taken by Robert
Long and Anthony Somerby, March
22d, 1675 : 76

Imprimis foure acres of plowland 3 acres of

pasture 4 acres salt marsh & 3 acres of
swamp or slow land 55-0-0

A yoke of oxen & a 4 yearf old heifer 16-10-0

His wearing apparrell 5-0-0

A chest a cross cut saw a broad axe
2 augurs A maul 2 addes a rule & a
raypier 2-8-0

A gnapsack & a bible & 2 paper
bookes 0-3-6

and debts due to him about 1-0-0

Sum is 80-6-6

the deceased was out in the country
service about 7 weeks he was at first
corporall and after seigent under the
said Capt. Lathrop & had all his arms
& amunition well fixt which is all lost
except the rapier

the debs that the deceased owes is
about 10-0-0

Anthony Somerby Robert. Long.

This inventoryjired in court held at Ips-
wich the 28th of March 1676. As attest
Robert Lord cler."

The children of Lieut. James and
Sarah (Coker) Smith were Sarah, born
Sept. 12th, 1668, married in 1692,
Richard Kelle}' ; James, born Oct. 16th,
1670, married, in 1695, Jane Kent;
Thomas, born March 9th, 1673, mar-
ried March 29th, 1715, Martha Noj'es ;
Hannah, born March 23d, 1675, mar-
ried in 1695, Joseph Pike. These were
the progenitors of Albert Pike the poet.
Joseph, born June 8th, 1677. died Ju-
ly 19th, 1677 ; John, born Nov. 1st,
1678, married Dec. 9th, 1709. Ann
Nelson; Benjamin, born Aug. 21st,
1681, married April 19th, 1709, Han-
nahSomes ; Mary, born Feb. 27th,
1684, died Dec. 15th, 1685.

The children of James and Jane
(Kent) Smith were : Capt. James,
born Nov. 25th, 1696, married Dec.
9th, 1719, Elizabeth Moody; Sarah,
born June 21st, 1699, married 1728,
William Moulton ; Mary, born Ma} r
23d, 1701, married Feb. 28th, 1724,
Moses Noyes ; Richard, born March

OF A NONAGENARIAST.

121

81st, 1706, died 3'oung ; John, born
June 3d, 1709, married March 3d,
1730, Martha Toppan, and died Sept.
25th, 1734; Moses, born May 16th,
1711. married, Nov. 24th, 1742, Lydia
Toppan : James, the husband of Jane
Kent, married a second wife, Sarah
Ordway, in 1723. Martha Smith,
widow of John Smith, married Cutting
Moody. She left two children John
Smith, born Nov. 3, 1731, and Abi-
gail Smith, born Nov. 29th, 1732 ; she
married Jonathan Bradbury in 1758.
Martha and Lydia Toppan, the wives
of John and Moses Smith, were sisters
of Rev. Benjamin Toppan, minister at
Manchester, Mass., forty-seven years.
They were children of Samuel Toppan,
who married Abigail, daughter of the
Rev. Michael Wigglesworth, author of
the Day of Doom. Rev. David Top-
pan was a son of Benjamin.

Soon after his marriage with Eliza-
beth Moody, Capt. James Smith, hav-
ing inherited from his grandfather, John
Kent of Kent's island, a hundred acre
lot on Crane-neck hill, moved thither.
That part of Newbury then termed the
" West Precinct," or " Newtown,''
was a wilderness, with Indians for
neighbors. A garrison had been estab-
lished on the place afterwards owned
by Dea. Samuel Tenney. Capt. Smith
put up a small house the back part
of the present dwelling ; the front was
built a few years later. At its erec-
tion the house was lighted by case-
ments hung on hinges, with diamond-
shaped panes set in leaden sashes.
These windows were modernized by
his son James, who remodelled the
house and built the long barn.

Capt. James and Elizabeth Smith
had ten children : Sarah, Samuel. Wil-
liam, James, Richard, Mollie, Jenny,

Betty, Stephen and Moses. These
ten sons and daughters all grew to
man's and woman's estate, comprising
a fine family, the young ladies being
specially noted for beauty and grace.
Sarah married Mood}' Follansbee" and
settled on a farm near Meeting-house
hill. Samuel married Judith, and Wil-
liam, Mary, sisters of Mr. David Em-
ery at the main road. Capt. Smith
gave to each of these two sons a thirty
acre lot, upon which they erected
houses on Crane-neck road one above
and the other below where the pres-
ent school-house is located. Isaac in-
herited the homestead and married
Elizabeth, daughter of Dea. John
Noyes. Richard married Abigail, a
sister of Mood} 7 P'ollansbee, and estab-
lished himself in the shoe business in
Newburyport, where he built a house
on Short, now Independent street.
Mollie became the wife of Capt. Wil-
liam Noyes of Newbuiyport. Fanny
died of consumption in early life, un-
married. Bett3"'s first husband was
John Emery, son of David ; after his
decease she married Col. Spofford of
New Rowley, now Georgetown. Ste-
phen and Moses moved to Lancaster,
where they married. Stephen was a
merchant, and Moses cultivated a
large farm.

Capt. James Smith, 2cl, and Eliza-
beth (Noyes) Smith had seven chil-
dren : Parker, Lizzie, John, Samuel,
Sarah, James, Enoch.

Parker married Hannah Savory and
settled on a farm in Newbuiy, near the
Bradford line. Lizzie became the wife
of Deacon Samuel Teuney ; John mar-
ried Mary March, and purchased the
Jonas Platts farm in Bradford, now
Groveland. Samuel married Sarah
Bailey ; he became the Methodist
16

122

REMINISCENCES

preacher ; Sarah remained unmarried.
James (my father) married Prudence,
eldest daughter of Mr. Joseph Little,
and succeeded the line of James Smiths
on the home farm. Enoch married
Hannah Woodman, and purchased the
farm of Maj. Hills on Crane-neck road,
adjoining that of my grandfather Little.
The Smiths of Newbury. West New-
bury, and Newburyport, though noted
for intelligence, ability, thrift and en-
terprise, have not been a scholastic
race.

Rev. David Smith graduated at Har-
vard in 1790. I recollect hearing him
preach some time during the interreg-
num between the departure of Parson
Toppan and the ordination of Dr.
Woods. He was a fine looking man,
and an eloquent divine . His record I
have been unable to trace.

Daniel Smith, for forty years an
apothecaiy in Newburyport, died Mar.
28, 1878, aged 90 years. Dr. Smith's
drug store (now S. A Smith's) , was on
Market square. He was one of the
most upright and genial of men, pos-
sessing great intelligence and force of
character. The latter part of his life
was passed in Lawrence, where he
died. His son, Daniel Talcot Smith,
born Sept. 17th, 1813. graduated at
Amherst in 1831, was assistant instruc-
tor at Andover in 1834-6, ordained in
Sherburne, Mass., Dec. 5th, 1836.
Has been for many years professor in
the Bangor Theological Seminary.

Thomas Smith, the first in America,
bore the ai'ms of Edward Smith of
Hampshire :

SABLE ON A FESSE, ENGRAILED Oil, BKTWKEN THKEE

DEMI-LIONS PA8SAKT, ARGENT, AS MANY

FLEUR-DE-LIS GULES.

The ancient arms of Smith of Cuerdley
were :

SABLE, SIX FLEUR-DE-LIS, THREE, TWO, AND ONE
ARGENT.

Of the English ancestor to whom
the arms of Smith were first issued I
have no account.

William Smith, Bishop of Lincoln, a
descendant of the Smiths of Cuerdley
County, Lancaster, was born at Peel
House in the township of Widness and
chapelry of Farnsworth, in the parish
of Prescot County. Lancaster, about
the year 1460. In 1492 he was made
Bishop of Litchfield and Coventry, and
on the 18th of May. 1495. he was trans-
lated to the see of Lincoln. About
the year 1509, in conjunction with Sir
Richard Sutton of Sutton near Mac-
clesfield, he founded a college in the
University of Oxford, "commonly
called the King's Haule and Colledge of
Brazen Nose." He also held the im-
portant office of Lord President of the
Marches of Wales from the 17th of
Henry VII to the 4th of Henry VIII.
He made his will on the 26th of Dec.

1512, appointing William Smith, Arch-
deacon of Lincoln, Gilbert Smith,
Archdeacon of Northampton, Thomas
Smith of Chester, merchant, and oth-
ers, his executors. He died at his pal-
ace at Buckden on the 2d of January.

1513, and was buried in the nave of

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

123

Lincoln Cathedral, near the great west-
ern door. Among his other benefac-
tions were a chapel in Farnsworth
Church, and a grammar school at the
same place. The arms of the Bishop
are :

AKOENT, A CHEVRON SABLE BETWEEN THREE ROSES
GULES, BARBED ANI) SEEDED VERT.

He sealed with a W (the initial of his
Christian name) between three roses.
On the brass to his memory in Lincoln
Cathedral, were four escutcheons, one
bearing his arms, two containing those
of his two sees Litchfield and Lin-
coln, and a fourth blazoned with a sol-
taire between four fleur-de-lis.

Of the Cuerdley famil}- were Thomas
Smith, twice Mayor of the city of Ox-
ford, and Thomas Smith, of Chester, a
near relative and one of the executors
of Bishop Smith. This Cuerdley family
well observed the injunction, "to in-
crease and multiply." Sir Thomas
Smith of Hatherton, a descendant of
Thomas of Chester, had twenty-two
children. Robert Smith, esq., some-
time citizen and draper of London, who
died 23d of March, 1609-10, had elev-
en sons and six daughters, all of whom
are represented upon his monumental
brass in Stoke Prior Church, Worces-
tershire. His sou Robert was the first
baronet of Upton. Robert's second
son, Sir James Smith, Knt., Avas Lord
Mayor of London in 1685, and his
eldest son Sir James Smith was the
first baronet of Isfield.

John Smith of St. Giles's, Cripple-
gate, entered his pedigree in 1663 as
the tenth son of John Smith, of "Stoke
Priory," and he married two wives and
was the father of ten children. Of the
same family was William Smith, of
Cahir Moyle, Ireland, who had issue,

two daughters and co-heiresses Char-
lotte, married to Sir Edward O. Brien,
Bart, and Harriet, wife of Thomas Ar-
thur, Esq. of Glenomera. The arms
of John Smith :

GENTMAN, & CAPTAYNE OF 2d COM. & 50 SOL-
DIERS. VERT A CHEVRON GULES BETWEEN
THREE TURK'S HEADS PROPER, TUR-
BANED OR. CREST AN OSTRICH OR
IN THE BEAK A HORSE SHOE

ARGENT.
MOTTO. " VINCERE EST VIVERE."

The exact pedigree of this worthy
cannot be traced. It is generally ad-
mitted that he was descended from the
Smiths of Cuerdley, and he is stated to
have been born at Willoughby in Lin-
colnshire in 1579, and to have been
descended by his mother from the Rie-
cards of Great Heck in the West Rid-
ing of Yorkshire. He was in the ser-
vice of Sigismund, brother to Duke of
Transylvania, from whom he received
in 1623 "three Turks' heads in a shield
for his arms by patent under his hand
and seal, with an oath ever to wear
them in his colors, his picture in gold,
and three hundred ducats yearly for a
pension." This coat was granted in
memory of three Turks, w.hom with
his own sword he overcame, and cut
off their heads, in the province of
Transylvania.

REMINISCENCES

Captain Smith after various advent-
ures in the old and new worlds, his life
being saved by Pocahontas, etc., died
in London on the 21st of June, 1631,
and was buried in St. Sepulchre's, in
the choir, where is, or was, a long in-
scription to his memory in '"fine tink-
ling rhyme and flowing verse," setting
forth his great prowess and many vir-
tues :

"How that he did divide from Pagans three
Their heads and lives, types of his chivalrie;
For which great, service in that climated one,
Brave SigUnuindus, King of Hungarion,
Did give him a coat of arms to \veare,
Those conquered heads got by his sword and
speare," etc.

Sir Thomas Smith of Theydon
Mount, Essex Bounty, was secretary to
King Edward the Sixth and Queen
Elisabeth. ' His family claim descent
from Sir Roger de Clarendon, Knt., a
natural son of Edward the Black
Prince.

Sir Thomas Smith of Hill Hall, Es-
sex, was created a baronet in 1661,
his arms were :

SABLE, A PES3E DANCETTE ARGENT, BILLETY OP THE
FIELD, BETWEEN THREE LIONS RAMPANT,
GUARDANT OF THE SECOND, EACH SUP-
PORTING AN ALTAR OR, FLAMIM.
PROPER. CREST A SALAMAN-
DER IN FLAMES, DUCALLY
GORGED, REGUARD-
ANT PROPER.

Some have supposed this crest indica-
tive of the escape of Sir. Thomas from
being burned in Queen Mary's reign,
but the fiery crest is rather allusive to
the "Smith that forgeth at the fire" of
honest Verstegan.

Thomas, second son of John Smith
of Corsham County, Wilts., settled in
London and became farmer of the Cus-
toms to Queens Mary and Elizabeth.
He purchased the estate of Ostenhan-
ger (now called Westenhanger) and
other property, in Kent, and died in

1591, aged 69. By Alice, his wife,
daughter and heiress of Sir Andrew
Judde, Lord Mayor of London in 1550
(son of John Judde of Yurnbridge, by
Margaret, daughter and co-heiress of
Valentine Chiche, which Valentine mar-
ried Philippa, daughter and co-heiress
of Sir Robert Chichele, Lord Mayor of
London 1411 and 1421, by Agnes, his
wife, daughter and heiress of William
Apuldrefield, brother of Archbishop
Chichele, founder of All Souls) , he had
seven sons. It is said that Smith
farmed the Customs, at first, for 12,000
a year, and that the}- were then raised,
time after time, until he paid 55,000
a year, and, 60,000 being afterward
demanded, he relinquished the contract.
He gave his eldest son Thomas (who
was made a Knight of the Bath by King
James) 8,000 a year, and upon each
of his other sons he bestowed not less
in estates than 6,000 a year. He had
six sons, who were sheriffs of six dif-
ferent counties.

The surname of Smith is of great
antiquity in Scotland, and of old was
variously written Snryt, Smyth and
Smith, and sometimes the}' have been
called Gow, which is Gaelic for Smith.
The traditional accounts of their origin
is, that they are decended from the
Clan Chattan : that Niel Croomb. third
son of Murdoch of that clan, who lived
in the reign of William the Lion, was
their progenitor. The sejant cat is the
device of the Clan Chattan, the motto
"Xa beau d'on chat gan lamhaiuu."
Touch not the cat without a
glove. ''The Clan Chattan. who gave
the name to the county of Caithness,
bore as their chief cognizance the
wild mountain cat, and called their
chieftain the Earl of Sutherland, Mohr
an Chat, the great wild cat."

OF A

125

CHAPTER XXX.

On the maternal side my first ances-
tor in America was George Little, who
came to Newbury, from Unicorn street
near London bridge, in 1640. Though
a young man, it appears as though he
brought a considerable sum of money,
as he made an extensive purchase of
land, which now comprises some of
the finest farms in Old town, most of
this estate being still retained by his
descendants. He was a man of honest}'
and abilit}-, often appointed to fill
places of trust and honor. He mar-
ried Alice Poore, who sailed for New
England from Southampton in May
1638, together with her younger broth-
ers, Samuel and Daniel, in the party of
Mr. Richard Duinmer. She died in
1680, aged 62. His second wife was
Eleanor Barnard, widow of Thomas
Barnard of Amesbury.

George and Alice Little had five chil-
dren Sarah who died in infanc} 7 , Jo-
seph, John, Moses, and a second Sarah.
Capt. Joseph Little married Mary,
daughter of Tristram Coffin, Esq.
Their children were Judith, Joseph,
(who died at the age of thirteen),
George, Sarah, Enoch, Tristram, Mo-
ses, Daniel, and Benjamin.

Ensign Enoch Little married Eliza-
beth, daughter of John Worth. En-
sign Little took his bride to a farm re-
cently granted on Crane-neck hill ;
this comprised the lower end of the
hill ; Capt. James Smith's was above ;
Mr. Ezra Pillsbury's place lay on the
northern, and that of Dr. Adams on
the southern slopes. The bridegroom
mounted his horse, with his young wife
on the pillion, and with their effects
packed in saddle-bags, they rode over
the bridle-path through the woods to

their new home. No shelter had been
provided. It was pleasant summer
weather, and the } T oung couple on the
first day dined upon a large, flat rock,
which is still preserved as a memorial ;
at night they sought the protection of
the garrison house. A small house
and suitable out-buildings were built,
trees were felled, and fruitful fields
soon replaced the ancient forest. This
pair had seven children : Joseph, Eliz-
abeth, John, Edmund, Enoch, Daniel,
and Benjamin. Five of these' Jo-
seph. John, Enoch, Daniel and Benja-
min, died of the throat distemper, which
at one time committed such fearful
ravages throughout the colom r . The
only daughter, Elizabeth, married
Abel Huse. Capt. Edmund.Little mar-
ried Judith, daughter of Dr. Matthew
Adams of Crane-neck hill ; their chil-
dren were Elizabeth, Judith, Joseph,
John, Sarah and Mary, (twins),
Enoch, Eunice, Prudence and Hannah.
Elizabeth married Abram Day, and
moved to Bradford. Judith married
twice first Abram Adams, at the
' ' Farms ;" second, Capt. Joseph
Noyes of Newburyport. Joseph (my
grandfather) married Betty Merrill.
AVithin one year from her nuptials Mrs.
Little died of consumption ; his second
wife was Mary, third daughter of the
Rev. William Johnson. John married
Ruth, daughter of Ezekiel Hale ; and
Enoch,- Man*, half-sister of Ruth : Sa-
rah married Samuel Thurrell, or Thur-
low. Mr. Thurrell resided some time
at the '" Farms." In the year 1788 he
purchased the Dr. Adams place and
moved to Crane-neck hill. Mary be-
came the wife of John Merrill ; their
only child, Lydia, married Dr. Daniel
Noyes Poore ; these were the great-
grandparents of the present Indian

126

REMIXISCE^CES

Hill family. Eunice married Robert
Adams at the " Farms." Prudence
died when a child. Hannah married
Samuel Dole : this pair resided some
years in Oldtown ; afterwards Mr.
Dole purchased the March Farm in
Newtown, and moved thither.

Capt. Edmund Little apportioned to
his son Joseph about seventy acres.
He erected a house and barn at the
foot of Crane-neck hill, just beyond
the brook. This was then a consider-
able stream, with sufficient power to
turn the wheel of a grist mill which
accommodated the neighborhood. Capt.
Little had erected the present large
and commodious mansion, now owned
by his great-great-grandson, Edmund
Little, and here he resided, his son
Enoch occupying half of the house. A
smaller one was built for John, farther
up the hill. The homestead was divid-
ed equally between these two, who cul-
tivated the place, annually paying their
father one-third of the income.

To avoid confusion I have spoken of
my father's mother as' Grandmother
Smith, and have not mentioned her
leaving the Smith homestead. In the
year 1787 Capt. James Smith died.
At that time Capt. Edmund Little was a
widower. Two years later widow James
Smith married her neighbor Capt. Ed-
mund Little . Her son Enoch and daugh-
ter Sarah still occupied her part of the
house, and cultivated the land. Prior
to her marriage, settlements were drawn
up by which, if Mrs. Little survived
her husband, in lieu of the widow's
dower, she was to receive a certain
sum of money, and return to the home
of her first marriage. This aged cou-
ple lived a most pleasant and contented
life for fourteen years ; then great-
grandsir died quite suddenly, and ''lit- j

tie grandmother," as I used to style
her, returned to her former home.
Uncle Enoch Smith bought the Major
Hill farm and moved thither, while
grandmother sank into her former rou-
tine, with her daughter Sarah for
housekeeper, Uncle Enoch tilling the
land as before. This marriage brought
some queer relationships into our fami-
ly. Prior to his mother's second union
her son James had married Prudence,
granddaughter of Capt. Edmund Little.
Thus nrv father became son-in-law to
his wife's grandfather. The stone
erected at the grave of my father's
mother bears this inscription :

ELIZABETH,

WIFE OF CAPT. JAMES SMITH,

AND RELICT OF CAPT. EDMUND LITTLE,

AGED ElfrHTT-^EVEN.

The first ancestor in America of
Elizabeth "Worth, the wife of Ensign

Enoch Little, was Lionel Worth, who
married Susanna "Whipple. Her father
John Worth, married Elizabeth, daugh-
ter of Israel Webster, the second son
of John and Mary (Shatswell) Webster
of Ipswich. Mrs. Webster's second
husband was John Emery of Newbury,
who emigrated to this countiy from
Romsey, England.

The arms of Worth are ;

ARGKNT. AN EAGLE IMPERIAL SABLE, MEMBERED OR.
CREST A LION RAMPANT PPB.

OF A

127

The Rev. Daniel Little was born
July 18th, 1724. He married in 1751,
Mary, daughter of Rev. Joseph P^mer-
son, who died June 2d, 1758, aged 32,
and Sarah Coffin, June 6th, 1759.
Though Mr. Little did not pursue a
collegiate course, he spent several years
in teaching, and the degree of A. M.
was conferred by Harvard College in
1766. He studied theology with Rev.
Joseph Moody of York, District of
Maine, and in March, 1751, was or-
dained pastor of the second parish in
Wells, in that district. Mr. Little was
one of the most distinguished and in-
fluential clergyman in that region, en-
joying a most successful pastorate of
over fifty years. In 1772 he was ap-
pointed for missionary service in the
eastern portion of the district of Maine.
This work led during the succeeding
years to be a series of arduous tours
and he became styled the Apostle of
the East. He established a school for
the Indians on the Penobscot, and
prepared a full vocabulary of their lan-
guage. Mr. Little was much interested
in the education of youth, and when
far advanced in years, was selected as
one of the trustees of Bowdoin College
at its establishment. He died suddenly
of paralysis, on the 5th of December,
1801, leaving several children and
grandchildren ; one of the latter be-
came the leading partner in the firm
Little, Brown & Co., Boston.

Col. Moses Little, born in Newbury
May 8th, 1724, married, June 5th, 1743.
Abigail, daughter of Joshua Bailey,
twin sister of Judith, who married his
brother Stephen, also sister of Gen.
Jacob Bailey, a distinguished officer in
the French and Revolutionary wars.
She died Feb. 6th, aged 91.

During Col. Little's early manhood

there was much activity in settling-
townships ; large tracts of land had
been granted to the officers and soldiers
of the French and Indian war ; many
wealthy people were also securing
grants. Col. Little obtained the ap-
pointment of surveyor of the King's
lands. In 1750 he was one of a com-
pany who acquired from Gov. Benning
Wentworth a large grant of the unoc-
cupied crown lands lying within the
present limits of Vermont. A few
years after he purchased a large tract
of land in the township of Apthorp,
N. H., which was divided into two
towns, one being named in his honor,
Littleton, and the other^ Dalton, from
his townsman, Hon. Tristram Dalton.
His possessions in this region were in-
creased by subsequent purchases, with
Maj. Samuel Gerrish and Col. Jona-
than Bailey. He acted as agent for
the proprietors of Bakerstown, and
succeeded in obtaining for them from
the General Court of Massachusetts a
township of land in Maine in lieu of
the one granted in 1736, which was
subsequently decided to be within the
borders of New Hampshire. By pur-
chasing from time to time the rights of
the original proprietors he became the
owner of the greater part of the grant,
which comprised a large part of what
is now Androscoggin count}-. In 1768
the Pejepscot Company granted to him
and Col. Bailey a still larger tract in
the same county, on the eastern side of
the Androscoggin, on condition that
they would settle fifty families there
before June 1st, 1774, and build cer-
tain roads. These conditions being-
only partially fulfilled the amount of
land deeded was diminished. Though
over fifty years of age, the war of the
Revolution found in Col. Little one of

128

REMINISCENCES

the most active and patriotic of his
country's defenders. Being senior
captain, at the news of the British ex-
pedition to Concord, which found him
ploughing, he unyoked his oxen, and
rall3"ing his conipan}', marched to the
American head-quarters at Cambridge.
At the battle of Bunker Hill he com-
manded a regiment. Forming his
men in Indian file he led them across
Charlestown Neck under a terrible
fire from the British batteries and
ships of war, arriving at the scene of
conflict just prior to the third and final
charge of the enemy. Though unhurt.
Col. Little had several narrow escapes ;
comrades falling on either side bespat-
tered his black velvet clothes with
blood. In August he returned home
to attend the funeral of two of his
children, and rejoined his command af-
ter an absence of only two days. After
the evacuation of Boston he accompan-
ied the army to New York, Ms regi-
ment forming a part of Gen.' Greene's
brigade. .

On the 4th of April Washington left
Cambridge for New York. Expecting
him at Providence, Gen. Greene, who
had been detained there, ordered two
regiments, Hitchcock's Rhode Island
and Little's Massachusetts, to appear
in their best form, and escort the Gen-
eral into the city. The minuteness of
Greene's directions on the occasion de-
picts the personal appearance of the
early Continental soldier. The follow-
ing has been preserved amongst Col.
Little's papers :

" Providence, April 4th, 1776.

Col. Hitchcock's and Col. Little's reg-
iments are to turn out to-morrow
morning to escort his Excellency into
town, to parade at 8 o'clock, both offi-
cers and men dressed in uniform ; and
none to turn out except those dressed

in uniform ; and those of the non-com-
missioned officers and soldiers that
turn out to be washed, both face and
hands, clean, their beards shaved,
their hair combed and powdered, and
their arms cleaned. The General hopes
that both officers and soldiers- will exert
themselves for the honor of the regi-
ment and brigade to which they belong.
He wishes to pay the honors to the
Commander-in-Chief in as decent and
respectable a manner as possible."

Upon Washington's arrival at New
York he arranged the army into five
brigades, under Heath, Spencer, Sul-
livan, Green, and Stirling. It becom-
ing necessary to despatch Gen. Sulli-
van with six regiments to the north-
ward, on the 29th of April the troops
were anew formed into four brigades,
Green's third brigade being assigned
to Long Island. Owing to bad weath-
er it did not cross until the third of
May. These troops consisted of Col.
Edward Hand's Pennsylvania Riflemen,
two Rhode Island regiments under
Cols. James Mitchell Varnum and
Daniel Hitchcock, and Col. Moses Lit-
tle's regiment from Massachusetts.
These ranked as the first, ninth, elev-
enth and twelfth of the Continental
Establishment, and were as well armed
and under as good discipline as any in
the army. Hand's regiment numbered
four hundred and seventy officers and
men, the others having an average of
about three hundred and fifty each.
These troops occupied the water front
to keep the enemy's ships out of the
river, and to secure themselves from an
attack by laud. To hold the Brooklyn
peninsula a chain of works 'was thrown
up across the neck. Three forts and
two redoubts, with connecting breast-
works, were thrown out. These forts
were named Green, Box, and Putnam.
The command of Fort Green was as-

OF A

129

signed to Col. Little, who describes it
as the largest of the works on Long
Island, and he resolved it never should
be surrendered while he was alive.

Washington's arm}- at the opening of
the campaign of August 27th consisted
of twenty-eight thousand five hundred
officers and men. Of these Massachu-
setts furnished seven thousand three
hundred. Greene having been advanc-
ed to the rank of Major-General, his
brigade had been placed under the
command of Brigadier-General John
Nixion, a sixth regiment from Mas-
sachusetts, under Col. William Pres-
cott, having been added to the force.

On the 22d of August the British
troops crossed from Staten to Long
Island. When tidings of the enemy's
landing reached Washington the troops
were immediately put under arms.
Col. Little expecting that morning-
would bring on a battle, and remem-
bering his promise to defend Fort
Greene to the last extremity, wrote the
following letter to his son Isaiah :

AUG. 22, 1776.

I have thought fit to send you nvy
will. You will take all charge neces-
sary, &c. The ene:ny this day landed
on this island and marched within three
miles of our camp. Three or four
regiments lodge within two miles of the
enemy. I expect morning will bring
us a battle.

Below is Col. Little's account of the
battle :

IN CAMP, NEW YORK, )
Sept. 1st, 1776. )

The enemy left Staten Island and
landed on Long Island the 22d, and
encamped on a large plain five or six
miles aross, at Flat Bush, four miles
distant. In the morning at two o'clock,
the enenvy attacked our right wing ; a
smart engagement for some time. The
enemy also advanced on our left. Lord
Stirling reinforced the right wing and

'defended himself till 12 o'clock, when
our wing gave way. My regiment was
in the centre on guard. The enemy's
right wing almost encircled two or
three regiments, and as they were not
together they were not able to defend
themselves and retreated with about
twenty wounded. Our people came
in about eleven o'clock. The enemy
at the same time with their light horse
and English troops attempted to force
our lines, but soon re treated, being met
with a smart fire from our breast works.

Two deserters informed us that the
number of enemy's dead and wounded
was upwards of five hundred I wish
ours may not be more. On the morn-
ing of the 28th, the enemy were en-
camped on the heights in front of our
encampment. Firing was kept up on
both sides, from the right to the left.
Weather very rainy ; 29th, very rainy.
Firing by both sides in front of Fort
Putnam. About sunset the enemy
pushed to recover the ground we had
taken (about one hundred rods) in
in front of the fort. The fire was very
hot, the enemy gave way and our peo-
ple recovered the ground. The fire
ceased and our people retired to the
fort. The enemy took possession again,
and on the morning of the 30th, had a
breast work there sixty rods long and
one hundred and fifty rods distant from
Fort Putnam.

Two ships of war had got up the
sound as far as Hell-gate by this time.
The general ordered each regiment to
be paraded on their own parades at 7
o'clock p. m. and wait for orders. We
received orders to strike our tents and
march with our baggage, to New York.
Our lines were manned until day-break.
The reason of the retreat was, that we
should have no chance to retreat if the
ships came up. I am not certain we
shall be able to keep the city of New-
York. You may hear of our being at
King's bridge. A great battle I think
will be fought here, or near King's
bridge. I am in a good state of health.
I am your affectionate father,

MOSES LITTLE.

To Mr. Josiah Little.
17

130

REMINISCENCES

Adjutant Josiah Adams, Lieut. Sam*-
uel Huse, Moses Pillsbury, Samuel
Smith, Chase Colby, Richard Short,
and David Emery, were seven of the
soldiers from Newbury in this battle.
The two latter stood shoulder to shoul-
der in the fray. M r. Short ever cher-
ished a tender memory of his deceased
comrade, an afiection extended to his
son. To the latest day of his long life
his first words of greeting always were,
" David, your father and I faced death
together."

The following is taken from Col. Lit-
tle's order book :

" REGIMENTAL ORDERS.

(Col. Little's.)

Officers for fatigue to-morrow Capt.
Gerrish, Lt. Kent, and Lt. Atkinson."

" Regimental Orders for the 12th
Regiment of Foot :

James Holland, a fifer in Cap.
Dodge's Company, is appointed fife-
major to this regiment, and is to be
obeyed as such. Com'd officers for
picket to-night Lt. Atkinson and Lt.
Fiske.

May 21st, 1776. Field officer for
picket to-morrow night Lt. Col. Cra-
ry, Adj. from Col. Little's regiment."

GEN. GREEN'S ORDER.

May 25, 1776.

Capt. Silas Talbot of Col. Hitch-
cock's regiment, Cap'u Frazier of
Cap'n (Col.) Wayne's regiment, Lt.
Noel Allen of Col. Varnum's regiment,
and Lt. Samuel Huse of Col. Little's
regiment, are a committee to inspect
the provisions for the troops of this
bridage.

June 21, 1776.

Lt. Huse is requested to oversee
the well-digging in Fort Green.

July 18, 1776.

Field officer of the da}- to-morrow,
Lt. Col. Henderson, Adj. from Col.
Little's.

Aug. 16, 1776.
The gin shops, and houses selling

liquor, strictly forbidden to sell to sol-
diers. excepting near the two ferries.
The General is determined to have an}"
soldiers punished that may be found
disguised with liquor, as no soldier in
such a situation can be fit for defense
or attack.

The General orders that no sutler in
the army shall sell to am- soldier more
than 1 gill of spirits per day. If the
above orders are not adhered to. there
shall be no more retailed out at all.

List of killed and missing at the bat-
tle of Brooklyn, Col. Little's, Twelfth
Continental (Mass.)

Captain Parker's Company.

Killed Peter Barthrick.

Capt. AVade's Company.

Missing Archelaus Pulsifer.
Capt. Dodge's Company.

Missing Elijah Lewis.

After the battle of Brooklyn, Col.
Little was entrusted with the command
of an encampment at Peekskill, where
he was detained by illness during Wash-
ington's retreat through New Jersey.
At the battles of Trenton and Princeton
his troops were commanded by Lieut. -
Col. Ilenshaw, but he rejoined the army
in time for efficient service. His health
being serious!}- impaired, he returned
home in 1777. In 1779 he was appoint-
ed by the Commonwealth to take com-
mand of the naval armament, which
was designed to dislodge the enemy at
Penobscot, but declined on account of
ill health. He lost his speech in 1781,
from a stroke of paralysis, and died
May 27, 1798, aged 74.

Col. Little was characterized by sa-
gacity, strength of mind, and a self-
possession which in the most trying
situations never deserted him. He
made the acquaintance of Washington
early in the war, who held him in high
esteem, and often relied upon his judg-
ment. An autograph letter from the
latter, with the sword worn at the bat-

OF A

131

tie of Bunker Hill, and other relics, are
still in the possession of his descend-
ants.

Col. Josiah, son of Col. Moses Lit-
tle, born Feb. 16, 1747 ; married, Nov.
23, 1770, Sarah, daughter of Edward
Toppan, of Newbury . Like his father,
Col. Josiah Little was noted for energy
and activit}'. Until far advanced in
years, he annually visited the lands he
inherited in Maine, New Hampshire
and Vermont, driving over the rough
roads alone, even after he had lost one
hand by a premature explosion while
overseeing the blasting of a passage
through some rapids on the Androscog-
gin. He had charge of his father's
real estate for many years. As the
agent of the Pejebscot Company, whose
claims were not very readily acknowl-
edged, he was often brought into un-
friendly relations with the squatters,
who were numerous in Maine at that
time. Tradition has handed down many
laughable adventures, but frequently
his personal safet}* was in jeopardy.
In Newbury, Col. Little was both influ-
ential and popular, representing the
town in the General Court for nearly
thirty successive } T ears. In addition to
his other business he was largely en-
gaged in shipping. At his death he
left a fortune valued at several hundred
thousand dollars. He died Dec. 26,
1830, aged 83.

Michael, oldest child of Col. Josiah
Little was born March 14, 1772 ; grad-
uated at Dartmouth in 1792 ; married,
Oct. 19, 1800, Sarah Stover, who died
July 28, 1801. His second wife was
Elizabeth Ricker, of Somersworth. He
died March 16, 1830.

Hon. Edward Little, the second son
of Col. Josiah Little, was born March
12th, 1773. Graduated at Dartmouth

College in 1797 ; married, Jan. 10th,
1799, Hannah, daughter of Captain
Thomas Brown of Newbury. She died
Aug. 1st, 1828, aged 56 years. His
second wife was Hannah, widow of Tap-
pan Chase of Portland. He studied law
in Newburyport in the office of Judge
Parsons ; practised his profession for
several } T ears with success ; was county
attorney and publisher of law reports
for the Commonwealth. After the fire
of 1811, by which he lost nearly all of
his property, he removed to Portland,
and in 1826 to Auburn, where he con-
tinued to reside during the remainder
of his life. The owner, by inheritance,
of the larger part of the surrounding
territory, he had great influence in di-
recting and promoting the growth of
the place. He endowed an academy
which continued in successful operation
for forty j'ears. After the formation
of the high school sj-stem the grounds
and a portion of the funds were trans-
ferred by the trustees to the town,
which now maintains an Edward Little
High School. He died Sept. 21st,
1849.

Josiah, the third son of Col. Josiah
Little, born Jan. 13th, 1791, graduated
at Bowdoin in 1811; married, Jan.
24th, 1814, Sophronia Balch. He was
an extensive land owner, and engaged
in manufactures ; a member of the
Maine Historical Society, and an Over-
seer of Bowdoin College, where he es-
tablished a professorship of Natural
Science, and founded the Public Libra-
ry of Newbuiyport, where for many
years he occupied the residence of
the late Dr. Edmund Sawj-er on High
street. He died Feb 5th, 1860.

Josiah Stover, onby child of Michael
and Sarah (Stover) Little, born July
9th, 1801, graduated at Bowdoin at

132

REMINISCENCES

the head of the class of 1825 ; mar-
ried Abby Chamberlain, Sept., 1833.
He was President of the Atlantic and
St. Lawrence Railroad, and Speaker of
the Maine House of Representatives
for several years. He died April 2d,
1862.

Josiah, second son of Hon. Edward
Little, born April 29th, 1801, was a
graduate of Bowdoin, studied law with
his father, practiced his profession for
several years, afterwards engaged in
manufactures. He married, Sept. 2d,
1822, Mary Holt Cummings of Nor-
way, Me., who died at Minot, Oct 6th,
1829, aged 25 years and 6 months ;
March 30th, 1830, Nancy Williams
Bradford, who died at Auburn, Nov.
20th, 1834, aged 26 years and 7
months; May 26th, 1835, Sally
Brooks, of Alfred, who died at Au-
burn, April 15th, 1849, aged 41 years
and 11 months, and May 20th, 1850,
Charlotte Ann Brooks, who survives
him.

After an absence of man}- years he
returned to his native place, Newbury-
port, where he resided until his death.
As a man of business he posessed ex-
cellent judgment. As a citizen he was
the firm friend of good order and good
morals, furthering to his utmost the
well-being of the communit}'. For
man}* 3*ears he took a deep interest in
the church and Christian institutions.
He died Aug. 9th, 1863.

Edward Toppan, third son of the
Hon. Edward Little, born Dec. 29th,
1809, studied law with his father, rep-
resented his town in the State legisla-
ture for several years, and was Judge
of Probate for Androscoggin county.
For many years he was a director in
the Maine Central Railroad and of the
First National Bank of Auburn. His

reputation as an upright and able law-
yer gave him an extensive practice.
He married, Oct. 2d, 1839, Melinda C.,
daughter of the Rev. W. B. Adams,
who died at Auburn, Sept. 30th, 1842 ;
and June 9th. 1846, Lucy Jane, daugh-
ter of Zeba Bliss. He died Novem-
ber, 1805.

Hon. Moses, the j'oungest son of
Col. Moses Little, born Jan. 20th,
1767, married, Aug. 6th, 1786, Eliza-
beth, daughter of Shubael Dummer,
who died Oct. 22d, 1840. He held
the commission of justice of the peace
for fifty years, represented the town of
Newbury in the Legislature nineteen
years, was a member of the conven-
tion for altering the constitution of
Massachusetts, and a deacon of the
Belleville church for thirt}- years. He
died April 28th, 1857.

Moses, son of Moses and Lj-dia
(Coffin) Little, born Feb. 26th, 1691 ;
married Sarah, daughter of Sergeant
Stephen and Deborah Jaques, Feb.
12th, 1716. He died Oct. I7tk, 1780.

The following epitaph is taken from
stone in the upper burying ground, on
the Plains, at Newbmy :

MR. MOSES LITTLE DEPARTED THIS LIFE
OCT. 17TH, IN THE 90TH

YEAR OF HIS AGE.

HE WAS TEMPERATE IN ALL THING-.

INDUSTRIOUS, HOSPITABLE, TET FRUGAL.

A KIND HUSBAND AND TENDER FATHER.

A GOOD NEIGHBOR AND GOOD CITIZEN,

AND WHILE LIVING JUSTLY SUSTAINED THE FIRST

OF CHARACTERS AN HONEST MAN.

"A wit's a feather, a chiefs a rod,
An honest man's ye noblest work of God."

Deacon Stephen, oldest son of Mr.
Moses Little, born May 19th, 1719 ;
manned, Aug. oth, 1743, Judith Bai-
ley, who died 1764, aged 40, and af-
terwards Mary Long, who survived
him, dj'ing in 1798, in her 75th year ;

OF A NONAGEJSTAKIAlSr.

133

Deacon Little died Aug. 30th, 1793.
Jacob, the youngest child of Deacon
Stephen Little, born 1763 ; married
Hannah, daughter of Moses and Han-
nah Sawyer. Sept. 28th, 1786. Their
seventh child, Jacob, born March 19th,
1797, in Newbury, Belleville,- was one
of the most prominent of New York
brokers. His father, Jacob Little,
was a man of wealth and distinction,
but commercial disasters swept away
his property, and the war of 1812 near-
!} completed his financial ruin. In
1817 Mr. Little secured a situation for
his son Jacob in counting-house of the
renowned Jacob Barker, and at once
he became a favorite with that success-
ful merchant. After remaining with
Mr. Barker five years, he began busi-
ness on his own account as an ex-
change specie broker, in a small base-
ment office on Wall street. During the
next twelve years, working eighteen
hours a da}* in his little office, he
promptly and shrewdly executed every
order, and his success was due no less
to his integrity than to his talent. In
1834 Mr. Little stood at the head of
the leading financiers and bankers of
the city, but commercial disaster over-
took him. Thrice Mr. Little was car-
ried down, but he was never dishonor-
ed. He recovered himself, and paid
up his contracts in full. On his first
suspension, though legally free from
liability, he disbursed nearly $1,000,-
000, paying every creditor in full with
interest, so that it was a common say-
ing among moneyed men, that Jacob
Little's suspended paper was better
than the checks of most merchants.
He closed his long career without a
stain upon his mercantile reputation.
He died March 28th, 1865, leaving a
widow and one son. The newsof his

death startled the great city. Mer-
chants congregated to do him honor.
Resolutions of enduring respect were
adopted, and the Stock Board adjourn-
ed to attend his funeral. He was
borne to his burial in Greenwood Cem-
etery with all honor.

Paul, the youngest son of Mr. Moses
Little, born April 1, 1740 ; married,
Ma}' 20, 1762, Hannah Emer}-, who
died in September, 1771 ; widow Sarah
Souther of Ipswich, Aug. 30, 1772, who
died Sept. 26, 1797, aged 54 ; and af-
terwards widow Sarah Emerson of
Boxford, who died Ma}'25, 1817, aged
55. He moved from Newburyport to
Portland in 1761 ; was a goldsmith by
trade, but engaged in commercial busi-
ness to a considerable extent. After
the destruction of the town by the Brit-
ish in 1776 he removed to Windham,
where many of his descendants still re-
side.

Silas Little, born in March, 1754 ;
graduated at Dartmouth in 1792 ; mar-
ried his cousin Lucretia, daughter of
Joseph and Elizabeth Hazen Little, and
died in 1845. Squire Little was a prom-
inent citizen, and owned a fine fa^-m in
Oldtown. Among other public offices,
he was one of the selectmen, and a rep-
resentative to the state legislature for
several years.

Moses Little, born July 3, 1766 ;
graduated at Harvard in 1787 ; was a
physician in Salem, Mass., and died
Oct. 13, 1811.

William Little, born Oct. 14, 1825 ;
married Ellen M. Carlton, of Haverhill,
Oct. 6, 1864. Town clerk of Newbury
for over twenty 3"ears, and president of
the Antiquarian and Historical Society
of Old Newbury.

David Little Withington, born in
Newbury, Feb. 2, 1854 ; graduated at

134

REMINTSCEXCES

Harvard in 1874. A practicing lawyer
in Boston and Newburyport.

Lothrop Withington, born in New-
bury, Jan. 31, 1856 ; educated at Dum-
mer Academy and Putnam Free School,
graduating at the latter in 1872. Since
1873, has resided a large part of the
tune in England and France. Edited
and published "The Ocean Wave," a
daily evening paper, in Newburyport,
from October, 1878, to April, 1879, and
was lately on the staff of the Newbury-
port Herald.

Russel Moody Little, born in 1858 ;
a student at Amherst.

The exact pedigree of George Little,
of Unicorn street, London, I have been
unable to learn ; the family descent can
be traced by the coats of arms. The
first granted are : Little Sable, a sal-
tire or (another or) . The next record
of these arms are : Little, Meichledale,
Scotland Sa, saltire, engr. or ; Little,
Liberton, Scotland the same arms,
with a crescent for difference. Crest,
a leopard's head or ; motto, Magnum
in parvo.

At some period between 1698 and
1731, a William Little, of Liberton,
county Edinburgh, a gentleman of an-
cient family, which had been in posses-
sion of the barony of Liberton for over
a hundred years preceding, married
Helen, daughter of Sir Alexander Gil-
mour, of Craigmillar in the same coun-
ty. Next in order comes Geoi'ge Lit-
tle, esq., of Llanvair Grange, county
Monmouth, Wales. Arms :

SA, A CHEVRON ENGR. ARGENT. CREST LEOPARD'S
HEAD PPB. MOTTO " MAGNUM IN PARVO."

There was a family of Littles, of
Kilnrea, Yorkshire, England, recorded
as " long time resident in this parish,"
in 1671, but the arms are a lion.

The arms transmitted by the descend-
ants of George Little in America are :

OB, A SALTIBE, OB ST. ANDREW'S CROSS, ENGRAILED

SABLE. CREST A WOLF'S HEAD.
MOTTO "MAGNUM IN PARVO," GREAT IN LITTLE.

The arms of the family of Alice
Poore, the first wife of George Little,
are :

OR, A FESS AZURE. THBEE MULLETS GULES. CREST -

LION'S HEAD OR.
MOTTO "PAUPER NON IN SPE." POOR NOT IN HOPE.

CHAPTER XXXI.

The Amery's (or Emery's) first an-
cestor in England was Gilbert D'Amery,
a Norman Knight of Tours, who, in

OF A NO^AGENARIAK.

135

1066, fought at Hastings with William
the Conqueror. The Roll of Battle
Abbey, where the names of the Con-
queror's chieftains are recorded, gives
the name as " Damery."

Gilbert D'Amery received large land-
ed estates from William the Conqueror.
He owned Thackingdon, and half a
dozen manors, near Oxford, which were
held by his descendants until 1376,
when the third Baron Richard D'Ame-
ry died. They long dwelt at Berkwell
manor, ten miles from Oxford, where
still stands the church they built. The
property went b}- heiresses to other
names, but John represented the coun-
t}' in parliament as late as 1423. An-
other John settled in Devon, and his
heir held the manor of White Chapel
at Bishops Nympton, which Frances,
the heiress of William, carried to Ed-
ward Gibbon, whose tablet, at Tiver-
ton, is dated 1707.

Thomas Emer}% citizen and uphold-
er, of London, left a will, dated March
11, 1533, proved June 2, 1534, be-
queathing his soul to God, the Virgin
Maiy, &c., and desiring to be buried
in the churchyard of St. Michael,
Cornhill, London.

Edward Emery, of Mary at Rooting,
County Essex, gent., will dated Oct.
30, 1637, proved Jan. 15, 1641, names
elder brother Thomas Emery, and ap-
points his younger brother, Anthony
Emery, his executor.

The Herald's Visitation of Essex,
1634, contains the following :

' ' Thomas Emery als Amery of Lit-
tle Baddow co. Essex, Thomas Emery
of Little Baddow eldest sonn, mar.
Mary dau. of Folliett of qu Filliot,
Oldhall in Rayne. Thomas Emery of
Little Baddow co. Essex 1634, mar.
Jane, daughter of Bay ley of Wades-

mill co. Hertford ; children, Edward,
Anthony, Maiy, Elisabeth."

Thomas Ameiy, son of Robert and
Miss Elliot, held estates near Bristol.
He married the daughter of the nine-
teenth Lord Keny. His brother Jona-
than came to Carolina as advocate-gen-
eral and treasurer. His daughter Sarah
married Gov. Arthur Middleton. His
son Thomas settled in Boston.

Edwards, in his Life of Sir Walter
Raleigh, quotes a letter from John
Hooker to Sir Walter :

"Your ancestor, Sir John de Ra-
leigh, married the daughter of D'Ame-
rie, D'Amerie of Clare, Clare of King
Edward the First, which Clare, by his
father, descended of King Henry the
First."

In a volume of French history it is
said that when Napoleon had resolved
to negotiate " avec Rome pour retab-
lir' L'ancien culte," his first advances
were " sous la direction religieuse du
respectable abbe Emery, superieur gen-
eral de Saint Sulspice."

Anthony and John Emery, the first
in America, came from Romsey, Eng-
land, in the ship James, to Ipswich,
thence to Newbury, in June, 1635.
Romsey is a . rare old town in Hamp-
shire (Hants), on the river Esk (the
Auton of the Roman period). The
broad, but winding and shallow vale is
indescribably beautiful, with its manors
and cottages amidst the slumberous fol-
iage, its wheat meadows, green slopes,
and crystal "Auton water." Flocks
of Southdowns dot the pasture swells,
and myriads of sparrows sweep around
the ripening grain acres. Towards
Southampton stretches the superb park
and forest of " Broadlands," the seat
of Lord Palmerston. Beyond is the
old mediaeval town ; the great square
tower of the abbey church of St. Mary's

136

REMINISCENCES

towering above the quaint buildings,
with the walled and buttressed bridge
of high arches spanning the gleaming
river. In the churchyard of the old
abbey (one of the oldest in England,
a part of the walls having been erected
in the twelfth century, by Henry l)e
Blois, bishop of Winchester) repose
the dust of successive generations of
Emerys, and within its time-honored
walls Anthony and John Emery were
baptised. In the churcl^'ard were in-
terred my Smith ancestors. Thomas
Smith came from Romsey. It was
from the worship in this ancient pile
that the forefathers seceded to join the
sect of the Puritans. The Emerys are
stiU represented in Romsey. A John
Emery recently deceased there, who
counted his descent from an ancestor
in the middle ages.

Anthon} r Emery, with his wife Fran-
ces, and son James (born in England),
went to Dover as early as 1644, where
he occupied land which he purchased of
Stephen Goddard in 1643. In 1646 he
had a grant of land of the town, and
was one of the selectmen of Dover.
He kept a tavern, but, having trouble
with the authorities respecting his li-
cense to sell wines, &c., in 1648 he as-
signed his land to Thomas Layton, and
moved to Kitten-, and settled in what
is now called Elliot. He signed the
submission to Massachusetts, in 1652,
and was elected as one of the towns-
men or selectmen for that 3'ear, and
also for 1654. He received from the
town, in 1650, grants of land of two
hundred acres. He was the first ferry-
man between Kittery and "Strawberry
Bank " ; a prominent citizen, holding-
several local offices ; a smart, enter-
prising man ; and many of his descend-
ants are notable persons. The time of
his death is unknown.

James Emeiy, born about 1630 ;
came to this country with his father ;
went to Kittery, and signed the sub-
mission to Massachusetts in 1652. He
had grants of land from the town of
Kittery from 1652 to 1671 of four hun-
dred and ten acres ; was one of the se-
lectmen of Kittery for several years,
and was a representative to the General
Court at Boston in 1676. His wife was
Elizabeth. Children : James, born
about 1658 ; Zachariah, born in 1660 ;
Noah, born in 1663 ; Daniel, born in
1666 ; Job, born in 1670.

James Emery, son of James, mar-
ried Margaret, daughter of Richard
Hitchcock, Dec. 18, 1685. Children :
Margaret, born Dec. 18, 1686 ; James,
born Feb. 18, 1688 ; Lydia, born April
28, 1891; Frances, born Dec. 17,
1694; Rebekah, bora March 7, 1697
(the latter married Daniel Smith, of
Saco, Jan. 1, 1719, and Matthew Ladd,
of Falmouth, Ma}- 7, 1755) ; Samuel,
born Sept. 2, 1700 ; Elizabeth, born
March 7, 1703 ; Thomas, born Dec. 2,
1706 ; Lucretia, born March 6, 1709.

Zachariah Emery received from the
town of Kittery in 1665 a grant of
fifty acres. His wife was Elizabeth.
Children : Elizabeth, born Nov. 24,
1687 ; Zachariah, born Oct. 5, 1690. '

Xoah Emery had a grant of land
from the town of Kittery, in 1885 and
1699, of one hundred acres.

Daniel Emery married Margaret,
daughter of William Gowen, March 17,
1695. He died Oct. lo, 1722. He
had a grant of twenty acres of land in
1694. He was an original member of
the church in South Berwick in 1702,
a deacon in 1703, and an elder in 1720.
He and his brother James were select-
men of the town in 1707, and for sev-
eral subsequent 3'ears. He was also

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

137

noted surveyor of land. His farm in
Elliot is still owned and occupied by
his descendants. His children were :
Daniel, born June 25, 1697 ; Noah,
born Dec. 11, 1699, settled in Exeter,
N. H. ; Simon, born Jan. 6, 1702 ;
Zachariah, born March 12, 1704 ; Mar-
garet, born March 3, 1707 ; Caleb,
born Oct. , 1710 ; Ann, born March
19, 1712 ; Joshua, born June 30, 1715 ;
Tirzah, born Sept. 19, 1717 (married
Dudley James, of Exeter, Jan. 12,
1753) ; Huldah, born Aug. 4, 1720.

Job Emery had grants of land from
Kittery, in 1694 and 1699, of thirty
acres. His wife was Charity. Chil-
dren : Job, born Jan. 29, 1697 ; Char-
ity, born April 24, 1699 ; Sarah, born
Feb. 4, 1700 ; Joseph, born Feb. 4,
1702 (married Mehitable Stacy, Oct.
10, 1727 ; she was born Feb. 4, 1705) ;
Jonathan, bora Feb. 27, 1709 ; Eliza-
beth, born July 8, 1711 ; Mary Abigail,
born Nov. 17, 1713 ; Miriam, born
April 8, 1716 ; Jabez, born July 13,
1718 ; Mary, born Dec. 4, 1720.

John Emery secured a grant of land
on the southerly side of the main road
leading to the bridge over the river
Parker, a short distance above the
"Lower Green," Oldtown. He had
been accompanied from England l)y his
wife (whose maiden name is unknown) ,
a son, John, born about 1629, and a
daughter, Anna, born in 1631. The
record of the third child, the first born
in America, is: " Ebenezer, a daugh-
ter, 16 Sept.,- 1848, being Monday
morning, two hours before day." ''Eb-
enezer : Hitherto hath the Lord helped
us." Evidently this daughter was
named from hearts overflowing with
thankfulness. Though Miss Ebenezer
might not have exactl}' fancied her
Christian name, I doubt not it gave her

Puritan sire the keenest satisfaction.
Mrs. Emery died the April following
the birth of this daughter. The 29th
of October, 1650, John Emery married
Mary (Shatswell) Webster, widow of
John Webster, of Ipswich. They had
one son, Jonathan Emery.

John Emery, jr., Oct. 2, 1648, mar-
ried Miss Mar}- Webster, a daughter of
the widow Mary (Shatswell) Webster.
Children : Mary, born June 24, 1652 ;
Hannah, born April 26, 1654 ; John,
born Sept. 12, 1656 ; Bethia, born Oct.
15, 1658 ; Sarah, born Feb. 26, 1661 ;
Joseph, born March 23, 1663 ; Stephen,
born, Sept. 6, 1666 ; Abigail, born Jan.
16, 1669 ; Samuel, born Dec. 20, 1670 ;
Judith, born Feb. 4, 1673 ; Lydia, born
Feb. 19,' 1675 ; Elizabeth, born Feb. 8,
1680; Josiah, born Feb. 28, 1681.
John Emery died in 1693. Mary, his
widow, died April 28, 1694.

Anna Emery married, Nov. 23, 1648,
James Ordway, who, tradition says,
came from Wales to Newbury. He
was born in 1620, and died after 1702.
Anna, his wife, died March 31, 1687.
Children : Ephraim, born April 25,
1650 ; James, born April 16, 1651 ;
Edward, born Sept. 14, 1653 ; Sarah,
born Sept. 14, 1656 ; John, born Nov.
17, 1658 ; Isaac, born Dec. 4, 1660,
and died Jan. 16, 1669 ; Jane, born
Nov. 12, 1663 ; Hananiah, born Dec.
2, 1865 ; Anne, born Feb. 17, 1670.

Jonathan Emeiy, second son of John,
senior, married, Nov. 29, 1676, Mary,
daughter of Edward Woodman, jr.
Children : Mary, born Sept. 24, 1677 ;
Jonathan, born Feb. 2, 1679 ; David,
born Sept. 28, 1682 ; Anthony, born
Nov. 13, 1684 ; Stephen, born Jan. 13,
1687, and died in Oct., 1688; Sara,
born Dec. 18, 1688 ; Stephen, born
18

138

PtEMTSTSCEXCES

June 24, 1692 ; Edward, born Nov. 10,
1694, and James.

Eleanor Emery, a sister of Anthony
and John, married John Bailey, jr.,
who came to Salisbury, thence to New-
bury, in 1650. Children : Rebecca,
born 1641 ; John, born May IS, 1643,
and died June 22, 1663 ; Joshua,
died April 7, 1652 ; Sarah, born
Aug. 17, 1644 ; Joseph, born April
4, 1648 ; James, born Sept. 12, 1650 ;
Joshua, born Feb. 17, 1653 ; Isaac,
born July 22, 1654 ; Rachel, born
Oct. 19, 1662 ; Judith, born Aug. 3,
1665, and died Sept. 20, 1668.

Ebenezer Emery married, April 21,
1669, John Hoag. Children : John,
born Feb. 20, 1670 : Jonathan, born
Oct. 28, 1671 ; Joseph, born Jan. 10,
1677 ; Hannah, born Jan. 3, 1683 ;
Judith, born April 20. 1687.

John, oldest son of Jonathan and
Mary (Woodman) Emery, married,
March 1, 1705, Hannah Morss. She
died Oct. 4, 1732. In 1733, Mr. Em-
ery married Rebecca Walker. Chil-
dren: Hannah, born June 19, 1706,
married Edward Holman, May 19,
1726; Joshua, born March 21, 1708,
married Sarah Smith, March 28, 1728 ;
David, born Jan. 24, 1710, married
Abigail, daughter of Deacon Daniel
Chase, Jan. 27, 1732. She died Aug.
29, 1753, aged 38. His second wife's
maiden name was Mary Pillsbury ; she
first married John Hills, in 1728, sec-
ond, Enoch Hale, Feb. 1, 1750 ; Sa-
rah, born Dec., 1711, married David
Chase, Nov. 24, 1729 ; Dr. Anthony,
born Sept. 5, 1713, married Abigail
Leavitt, of Hampton, N. H., May 10,
1738 ; Mehitabel, born Oct. 12, 1718,
married Nathan Morss, Oct. 20, 1742 ;
Judith, born Jan. 10, 1722, married
Samuel Smith, Dec. 2, 1742; Mary,

born Dec. 8, 1726, married William
Smith, May 20, 1747.

David, second son of John and Han-
nah Emery, obtained a grapt of land
in the "West Precinct" of Newbury,
on the main road in the upper parish,
and became one of the wealthiest citi-
zens in that part of the town. His
children, all by his first wife, Abigail
Chase, were : David, born Jan. 23,
1734, died Feb. 14, 1734 ; John, born
Jan. 16, 1735, married Edna Noyes,
April 7, 1756 ; Abigail, born June 2,
1737, married Ephraim Boynton, Feb.
19,1756; Hannah, born Feb., 1739,
married Daniel Hills, May 15, 1757 ;
Martha, born March 1, 1741, married
Nathaniel Bailej*, August 6, 1761 ;
Sarah, born June 24, 1744, married
Enoch Noyes, Oct. 30, 1765 ; Moses,
born Jan. 13, 1748, married Sarah
Hale, Sept. 27, 1770 children, Abi-
gail, John, Jacob, and Moses ; Thom-
as, born 1750, married Ruth March,
Oct. 10, 1770. and died Nov. 21, 1770.
His widow married John White, 3rd,
May 7, 1772.

David Emery and his second wife
died from dysentery, a short time from
each other. Their gravestones read :

MARY,

WIFE OF DAVID EMERY,

DIED SEPT. 16, 1778,

AGED 66.

DAVID EMERY,

DIEB OCT. 29th> 1773,

AGED 69 TEAKS.

John, son of David and Abigail
(Chase) Emery, married Edna, daugh-
ter of Capt. Ephraim Noyes, for his
first wife. Edna (Noyes) Emery, a
great-granddaughter of Mr. Nicholas
Noyes, and great-grandneice of Rev.
James Noyes, also descended from a
noteworthy family on the maternal side,

OP A NONAGENARIAN.

139

her mother being Abigail, the second
child of Jonas and Anna (Bailey)
Platts, and granddaughter of Dea. Jos-
eph Bailey, of Bradford.

Dea. Joseph Bailey was the only
child of Richard Bailey, who came
from Yorkshire, England, to America,
when he was fifteen years old, with
Richard Dummer, in the ship Bevis,
150 tons, Robert Batten, master, in
April, 1638. At that early age, young
Bailey was noted for piety ; and, dur-
ing a violent storm on the voyage, he
was called upon b} T the ship's company
to pray for their safety. He married
P^dna Holstead, and purchased an es-
tate in Rowley. He was one of a com-
pany to set up the first cloth mill in
America, which was in Rowhry, on the
site of the present "Bummer's (Glen)
Mills." Richard Bailey died in 1647
or 1648. In 1619, Edna, the widow
of Richard Bailey, married Ezekiel
Northend, of Rowley, who probably
took possession of the homestead, as
it has been in. the possession of the
Northend family from that time.

When Dea. Joseph Bailey obtained
his lot, and built his house, the home-
stead was included within the ancient
precincts of Rowley, that part border-
ing the river bearing the designation of
" Merrimac Land." This was soon in-
corporated as the town of Bradford,
and in 1850 the east part of Bradford,
in which his farm was situated, was set
off as a separate town under the name of
Groveland. Deacon Bailey was one of
the leading men of Bradford, in civil,
military and ecclesiastical affairs. He
was one of the selectmen twenty-three
years between 1675 and 1710, and one
of the deacon's from the formation of
the church until his death, Oct. 11,
1712.

The Bailey arms are :

OR, ON A PESS BETWEEN THREE MARTLETS GU, A

BEZANT. CREST A DEMI-LADY, HOLDING IN

HER DEXTER HAND A TOWER, AND IN

SINISTER A BRANCH OF LAUREL.

The children of John and Edna
(Noyes) Emer}' were : Ephraim, born
Feb. 28, 1758 ; David, born April 20,
1763 ; Hannah, who died in childhood.
Mrs. Emery deceased soon after, and
Mr. Emery married Betty Smith, of
Crane-neck hill. He lived but a short
time after this union, and his widow
married Col. Spofford, of New Row-
ley.

Ephraim, oldest son of John and
Edna Emery, married Mary, daughter
of Peter Russell, of Bradford. hil-
dren : Mary, Thomas, Sohn and Han-
nah.

David Emery, the second son, born
April 20, 1763, married Betty, only
daughter of John and Ruth (Hale)
Little. He died Oct. 21, 1785. Their
son, David, was born Dec. 22, 1785.
The third year of her widowhood, Betty
(Little) Emery married Moses Column,
of By field.

iStephen, third son of John, jr., and
Mary (Webster) Emery, born in 1666,
married Ruth Jaques in 1692, and set-
tled on a farm, on the " river road," in
what is now the first parish in West

140

REMIXISCEXCES

Newbury. Children : Anna, Sarah,
Ruth, Mary, Judith, Abigail, Elizabeth,
Stephen, Hannah, Miriam, and Lydia.

Lydia, born in 1717, married her
kinsman, Moses Eineiy. Their chil-
dren were : Lydia, Mary, John, Moses,
Josiah, Nathan, Sarah, Anna, Amos,
and Michael.

Amos, born in 1757, married Anna
Mood}* in 1784. Children : Hannah,
Anna, Ebenezer, Lydia, Miriam, Mo-
ses, Amos and Jacob Moody.

A part of the farm is still the resi-
dence of the widow and daughters of
the late Jacob Moody Emery. A clock
that had ticked in its corner at the
homestead, for nearly one hundred and
fifty years, has recently been taken to
Portland, Maine, by a grandson of Amos
Emery, Amos Emeiy Howell, where it
has been rejunevated, looking even bet-
etter than in its palmiest days, over a
century ago.

Michael Emeiy was one of the first
carriage builders of Amesbury. John
Emery, senior, must have been a man
of consideration and education, as we
find his name bearing honorable men-
tion, in the earliest annals of the set-
tlement. February 1st, 1638, the town
ordered that "John Emery shall make a
sufficient pound for the use of the
towne, two rods and a halfe square, by
the last of the present month if he cann."
On the following 17th of May, An-
thony Emeiy was fined ' twenty shil-
lings for a pound breach, and to give
thirteen shillings and fourpence to Thom-
as Coleman for his charges." Dec. 18th,
1645, a committee of seven men was ap-
pointed " at a publique meeting for. to
procure a water mill for to be built and
set up in said towne (of Newbury).
to grind theyr corne." And they agreed
to give John Emery and Samuel Scul-

lard 20 in merchantable pay, to give
them ten acres of upland, and six acres
of meadow, and that the said mill is to
' ' be free from all rates for the first sev-
en years, and to be a freehold to them
and their heirs forever, the}' on their
part agreeing to sett up said mill be-
tween Nicholas Holt's point and Ed-
ward Woodman's bridge, ready for the
town's use, to grind the town's grists,
at or before the twenty-ninth of Sept.
1646."

This was the second grist mill estab-
lished in Newbury the first was erect-
ed at " the falls," on the river Parker,
by Messrs Dummer & Spencer, in ac-
cordance with the grant from the Gen-
eral Court, and an agreement with the
town in 1635.

May 18th, 1647, the town, for three
pounds, granted to John Emery " that
parcell of land called the greene, about
three akers, being more or lesse, bound-
ed by the half-acre lots on the west,
the live way on the south-east, and his
own land on the north; being in a tri-
angle, only the twenty rods is reserved
in said land for a burying place as it
is bounded with stakes with a way to it
from the east."

This burying place is situated east of
Oldtown hill, and is still called the
" Emery lot." At a short distance
may be seen the site of the first resi-
dence of John Emery with the well
near by.

At the court in Salem. May 5th. 1 663,
John Emery was fined four pounds for
entertaining Quakers. His offence con-
sisted in granting food and lodging to
two men and two women, who were
travelling together farther east.

In George Bishop's "New England
Judged," will be found this narration :

" Edward and George Preston, and

OF A NONAGENARIAN".

141

Mary Tompkins and Alice Ambrose,
alias Gary, passed eastward to visit the
seed of God in those parts, and in their
way through Newbury, they went into
the house of one John Emery, (a friend-
ly man) , who with his wife seemed
glad to receive them, at whose house
they found freedom to stay all night,
and when the next morning came the
priest, Thomas Parker, and many of
his followers came to the man's house,
and much reasoning and dispute there
was about truth ; but the priest's and
many of the people's ears were shut
against the truth. And in the time of
their discourse, the wind striving in
Mary Tompkin's stomach, making some
noise, she having received no sustenance
for the space of near forty-eight hours,
one Joseph Pike, after the}' were depart-
ed the town said 'she had a devil in her.'
After a while the priest perceiving that
the battle might be too hard for him,
rose up, and took the man of the house
and his wife out of doors with him,
and began to deal with them for enter-
taining such dangerous people. They
replied they were required to entertain
strangers. The priest said it was dan-
gerous entertaining such as had plague
sores upon them.. Which the women
hearing, b'egan to take the priest to do
for saying such false, wicked and ma-
licious words, but he hasted away. Ma-
ry Tompkins called him to come back
again, and not to show himself to be
one of those hirelings that flee and
leave their flocks behind them, but he
would not."

It appears by the following, that John
Emery was not completely over-awed
by the good but mistaken Parker :

'The testimony of Henry Jaquesaged
about 44 years, saith, that I heard Jo-
seph Noyes say, that after that time
that the Quakers had their meeting at
John Emery's, that he saw two Qua-
kers at John Emery's house, and
John Emery bade them welcome, and
further saith that I heard Joseph Noyes
say, that John Emery had entertained
Quakers, both to bed and table, after
the time they had their meeting at J ohn

Emery's house, and this he testified be-
fore the church at Newbury, and farth-
er I do testify that I heard John Em-
ery and his wife say that he had enter-
tained Quakers and that he would not
put them from his house, and used ar-
gument for the lawfulness of it.

HENRY JAQUES.

Sworn in Court, May 7, 1663,

Before Robert Lord, Clerk."

[This Henry Jaques w r as a constable
of Newbury.]

"The Deposition of Joseph Noyes,
aged 26 years :

This Deponent saith yt as he was
agoing to Goodman Emerie's sen., he
overtook two w r omen Quakers, and sup-
posing they would call at ye house of
ye forementioned Emmery, he desired
him not to entertain ym. But whilst
he was in discourse, the}- came into ye
house, and staid until he went away.
Goodman Emmery was in ye chamber,
(as he knows, because he ym upon
an occasion called out to his wife)
his wife being in ye same room with ye
Quakers, at his house wn Mr. Parker
was yr. Farther he had understood by
those yt wr eye-witnesses, yt two men
Quakers wr yr entertained very kindly
to bed and table, & John Emmerie
shook ym by ye hand and bid ym wel-
come. Ye substance of ys he or his
wife in his presence told him and
owned it, (according to his best remem-
brance) more yn once. This also ws
severl days after ye meeting above
said.

Taken upon Oath 24, 4th, 67,
before me, Simon Bradstree't."

At this period one can scarcely de-
pict the commotion such an incident
must have caused in the secluded and
quiet settlement of Quascacunquen, on
the banks of the winding Parker, or
appreciate the courage evinced by John
Emery and his wife in thus rising above
popular prejudice, and fanatical bigotry
and intolerance.

The Quaker guests, Mary Tompkins
and Alice Ambrose, came from Eng-

142

KEMESTISCEISrCES

land to Boston, with George Preston in
1662. These women in company with
a third, Anna Colman, on their visit to
the "seed of God" in New Hampshire,
aroused the indignation of the authori-
ties, and Capt. Richard Waldron of
Dover was impowered to act in the ex-
ecution of the laws against ' ' the wick-
ed errors of Quakers," upon which he
issued the following proclamation :

"To the Constables of Dover, Hamp-
ton, Salisbury, Newbmy, Rowley, Ips-
wich, Windham, Lynn, Boston, Rox-
bury, Declham, and until these vaga-
bond Quakers are out of our jurisdic-
tion."

"You and -every one of you are re-
quired in the King's Majesty's name to
take these vagabond Quakers, Anna
Colman, Maiy Tompkins, and Alice
Ambrose, that they be stripped naked
from the middle upwards, and make
them fast to the cart's tail, and drawing
the cart through the several towns, to
whip them upon their naked backs not
exceeding ten stripes apiece on each of
them in each town, and so convey them
from constable to constable till they
are out of this jurisdiction, as you will
answer it at }~our peril and this shall be
your warrent.

Per me,
RICHARD WALDRON,"

Dover, Dec. 22, 1662.

This order was executed in Dover,
Hampton, and Salisbur} 7 ; but through
the intervention of Walter Barefoot,
Deputy Governor of New Hampshire,
Newbury escaped the disgrace of such
an act of cruelty. On pretence of de-
livering the persecuted females to the
constables of Newbuiy, Gov. Barefoot
took them from the New Hampshire
constables, and secured them from fur-
ther molestation b}' sending them out
of the Province.

In October, 1657, the General Court
had ordered that the penalty for enter-

taining Quakers should be forty shil-
lings. In 1659, Thomas Mac} r , one of
the first settlers of Newbury, but at
that time a resident of Salisbury, was
summoned to appear before the Gener-
al Court, for violating the above law.
Instead of complying, he sent a letter
of which the following is a cop} r :

' ' This is to entreat the honored court
not to be offended because of my non-
appearance. It is not from slighting
the authority of this honored court, nor
from feare to answer the case ; but I
have bin for some weeks past, very ill,
and am so at present, and notwithstand-
ing my illness, yet I, desirous to ap-
pear, have done my utmost endeavor
to hire a horse, but I cannot procure
one at present ; I being at present des-
titute have endeavored to purchase, but
at present cannot attaine it, but I shall
relate the truth of the case as my an-
swer should be to ye honored court,
and more cannot be proved, nor so
much. On a rainy morning there came
to nry house Edward Wharton and
three men more ; the said Wharton
spoke to me saying that they were trav-
elling eastward, and desired me to di-
rect them in the way to Hampton, and
asked me how far it was to Casco bay.
I never saw airy of ye men afore except
'\Yharton, neither did 1 require their
names, or who the}' were, but by their
carriage I thought they might be qua-
kers, and told them so, and therefore
desired them to pass on their way, say-
ing to them I might possibly give of-
fence in entertaining them ; as soon as
the violence of the rain ceased (for it
rained veiy hard) , they went awa}', and
I never saw them since. The time
that they were in the house was about
three-quarters of an hour, but I can
safely affirme it was not an houre.
Thej- spake not many words in the time,
neither was I at leisure to talke with
them, for I came home wet to ye skin
immediately afore the}' came to the
house, and I found my wife sick in bed.
If this satisfie not the honored court, I
shall subject to their sentence ; I have

OF A

143

not willingly offended, I am ready to
serve and obe}' you in the Lord.

THO. MACY."

Notwithstanding this explanation and
apology, Mr. Macy was fined thirty
shillings, and was ordered to be admon-
ished by the governor. Tradition in-
forms us that Thomas Macy, immedi-
ately after his sentence, with his family
repaired to Nantuckct in an open boat,
being one of the first English settlers
on that island, where he passed the re-
mainder of his life. This . incident,
Whittier has woven into one of his
most charming ballads.

Two of the Quakers who received
shelter in Thomas Macy's house, Wil-
liam Robinson and Marmaduke Ste-
phenson, were hung at Boston, Decem-
ber 27, 1659.

There is more "truth than poetry"
in Jay's ' Innocency's Complaint,"
where he writes, "The making laws
for to ensnare the just of God, is hated
and to be accurst. The Massachusetts
is alike for crime unto Judea in Christ
Jesus' time. Here laws are extant
that doth terrify well-meaning men and
Liberty deny. Here innocents are
fined, whipt and branded, ears cropped,
some sold for slaves, some lashed, some
hanged. Whoever is contrary to them
found, tho' in his spirit, their fine must
be five pounds, or else three days in
jail ere a discharge, and with a ten-
lashed whipping be enlarged."

The following, respecting the enter-
tainment of Dr. Henry Greenland,
Newbury's earliest physician, has been
found among the -Massachusetts ar-
chives :

Copy of the Petition of John Emery,
sen., of Newbury to the Massachusetts
General Court, in relation to his fine
for "Entertaining Strangers," 1663.

May 21, 1663.

To the honord Generall Court now
assembled at Boston the Humble pe-
tition of John Emery humbly showethe
That your Petitioner dwelling in New-
bury, It so fell out by Providence of
God that a certain Gentleman (named
Mr. Henry Greenland) coming from
England upon his occasion was by rea-
son of his acquaintance with Capt.
Barefoot &c. inclinable to settle in ye
Country if hee liked, and to make use
of his practise of Physic and Chirur-
gery amongst us ; But being as yet un-
settled & oncertanie where to fix untill
his wife (whom hee hath sent for) did
come By Reason of some employment
by 3*e Providence of God presented it-
self to him ; hee was necissarily put
upon it to reside neer such Patients
as had put themselves into his hands
for Cure : Among which one being
more than ordinarily disordered Hee
Desired entertainment. And jour Pe-
titioner did for Reason above men-
tioned Receive and entertain him this
winter past for which* I am fined four
Pounds by ye hon'rd Court at Ipswich
for Breach of a Law ; not having [at
first] License under the hand of a mag-
istrate : hee himselfe being a stranger
and not knowing the Law, nor your Pe-
titioner the Humble request of your
Petitioner is ; That this honobl Court
would bee Pleased to remit ye saide
fine (it being not done in Contempt
but only as necessarily occasioned as
above sd.) wherein ye Gentleman hath
by God's .blessing been furthered &
been of much good by his calling ; Both
in Physick and Chirurgery and your
pore Petitioner shall ever Praj".

We the Selectmen & such others as
are subscribed, Considering the useful-
ness of Mr. Greenlands in respect of
his practice in our towne, do humbly
desire the same if this hon'd court
please.

John Pike,
Richard Thurlo,

Thomas
Peter Godrie,
James Ordway,
Lionel Worth,

Abraham Toppan,
John Bayley,

Sam Pore,
Edw. Richardson,
Robere Coker,
Richard Fits,

144

REMENTSCEXCES

John Cheney, Jun.,

Robert

John \Vilcutt,

Kobt Adams,

Lanslet Granger,

Will

Anthony Short,

John Knight,

John

Rich

Brown,
Peter Toppan,
Jeremy Gutiidge,
William

Stephen

Saml

Thomas Hale, Jun.,

John Poore, Senor.

Stephen Swett,
Anthony Morse, sen.,
Willi

Richard Loell,
Anhony Sumerbee,
John Mearell,

Abell Huse,
John Cheney, sen'r,
James Jackraan,
Joseph Pluraer
John Parker, Senior,
John Jun.,

Thomas Brown,
William Titcomb,
Richard Bartlet,
Thomas
Wilum Morse,
Josif Tainey,

2, 3, 63. The Magts have consid-
ered the grounds of this Petr ; & con-
sent not to any reversion of the coun.
Court's sentence.

THO. DANFORTH, P. E. R. S.
Consented to by ye depety provided
they may have ye ten shillings agayne.

WILLIAM TORREY, Clerk.
The Magists Consentyes,

ED^ : RAWSON, Secry."

This ancient document being much
worn, some of the names are in part,
or wholly illegible.

In 1669, the ecclesiastical difficulties
by which the town had been for some
time agitated, arose to such a height,
that an appeal to the civil authority
was considered necessary. The cause
of this disturbance was a change of
sentiment, which Messrs. Parker and
Noyes manifested respecting church
government and discipline.

Johnson, in his "Wonder-working
Providence " says : "The teaching eld-
ers of Newbury have carried it very
lovingly toward their people, permit-
ting them to assist in admitting of per-
sons into the church society, and in
church censure, so long as they act reg-
ularly, but in case of maladministration
the}- assume the power wholly to them-
selves."

Johnson very well expi'essed the
principles of church discipline held by
Messrs. Parker and Noyes, principles
which engendered a controversy that
was not settled until a short time prior
to Mr. Parker's death in 1677. A ma-
jority of the church demanded as a
right, what the pastor and teacher
"lovingly permitted" as a favor, and
believing that the church in its corpo-
rate capacity had a right, and therefore
were under a sacred obligation to man-
age its own affairs, they contended
most strenuously against their elders
assuming the powers wholly to them-
selves.

October 22d, 1656, "Mr. Noise, the
blessed light of Newbury, died." Of
his uncle, the Rev. Nicholas Noyes thus
writes : ' ' The}' who differed from him
in smaller matters as to discipline, held
a most amicable correspondence with
hun." During Mr. Noyes' lifetime,
there was no serious difficulty in the
church. After the return of Mr. John
Woodbridge from England in 1663, he
was employed by the town to assist his
uncle Parker in preaching, at a salary
of sixty pounds per annum, until 1670,
when the town agreed to dispense with
his services. From 1665 to 1669, the
church and town were in a most excited
and uncouciliatory state, being about
equally divided, one part}' adhering to
Mr. Parker, while the opposition were
led by Mr. Edward Woodman, a man
of talents, influence, firmness, and de-
cision, and from him were styled Mr.
Woodman's party. This gentleman af-
firmed ' ' that Mr. Parker would set up
a prelacy, and have more power than
the pope, for the pope had his council
of cardinals." Both John Emery, sen.,
and his son, John Emery, jr., joined
Mr. Woodman's party. The following

OF A

145

is extracted from the records of the
court at Salem :

"I, John Pike, do testifie that I was
present at the gathering of the church
at Newbuiy, and I did hear our rever-
and pastor preach a sermon on the
eighteenth of Matthevt, seventeenth
verse, 'and if he neglect to hear them,
tell it unto the church ; but if he neg-
lect to hear the church, let him be unto
thee as an heathen man and a publican,'
wherein he did hould forth that the
power of discipline belonged to the
whole church, yt the matter of the
church ought to be visible saints jo} - ned
or gathered together, that the manner
of their joj'ning together ought to be
by covenant, yt the end of it is for the
exercisingo and enjoyinge of the ordin-
ances of Christ togeather. He strongly
proved his doctrine by many places of
the Scripture, both in the old and new
testament. The which sermon togeath-
er with the Scriptures did much instruct
and confirme us in that waye of church
discipline which as I understood he
then preached for, namely the congre-
gational wave, some noates of the said
sermon, which I then took from his
mouth, I have here ready to shew if
you please. The sermon being ended
the brethren joyned together by express
covenant, and being joyned they chose
their pastor Mr. Parker, who accepted
the call, and joyned with them accord-
ing to the covenant aforesaid ; and
those that afterward jo3"ncd to the
church, consented to the said covenant
explicit. The brethren of the church
acted in these admissions of ye members,
expressing^ their voats therein b}^ lift-
ing up the hande, and soe continued
together lovingly a considerable num-
ber of yeares untill other doctrine be-
gan to be preached amongst us.

Per me, JOHN PIKE.

Sworne in court 30 March, 1669."

"Robert Pike also testifies that the
meeting was on the Sabbath in the
open air under a tree."

"At the same time that Mr. Parker
was chosen pastor, Mr. James Noyes
was chosen teacher."

Similar testimonies were give by John
Emery and Thomas Browne.

Tradition asserts that the tree under
which this first sermon was preached
was a majestic oak, which stood on the
north bank of the river Parker, about
a hundred yards below the present
bridge.

After a series of trials and appeals,
and a council of the neighboring elders
and churches, which was convened
Nov. 3d, 1669, the controversy was fi-
nally settled at the court at Ipswich,
May 29th, 1671, "which adjudged the
said Mr. Woodman, and part}' adhering
to him, to pay the several fines under-
written, with the charge of the witnes-
ses, and fees of court, and that the}' all
stand committed till the said fines,
charges and fees be satisfied and paid.

Mr. Edward Woodman, twenty no-
bles ; Mr. Richard Dummer, Richard
Thorlay, Stephen Greenleaf, Richard
Bartlet, and William Titcomb, four no-
bles each ; Francis Plumer, John Em-
ery, sen., John Emery, jun., John
Merrill, and Thomas, Browne, a mark
each ; Nicholas Batt, Anthony Morse,
senior, Abraham Toppan, William Saw-
}-er, Edward Woodman, junior, John
Webster, John Bartlet, senior, John
Bartlett, junior, Joseph Plumer, Ed-
ward Richardson, Thomas Hale, junior,
Edmund Moores, Benjamin Lowle, Job
Pilsbury, John Wells, William Ilsley,
James Ordwaj 7 , Francis Thorla}', Abra-
ham Merrill, John Bailej-, Benjamin
Rolfe, Steven Swett, and Samuel Plum-
er, a noble each ; Robert Coker. and
William Moody were not fined."

A noble is six shillings and eight-
pence ; a mark, thirteen shillings and
fourpence.

The following are the names of Mr.
Parker's party :
19

146

REMTNUSCENC'ES

Mr. John Woodbridge, Capt. Paul
White, Mr. Henry Sewall, Richard
Kent, John Kent, Henry Short, Daniel
Price, senior, Richard Knight, John
Kelley, John Knight, Henry Jaques,
Thomas Hale, senior, Robert Adams,
Abel Huse, George Little, Samuel
Moody. William Chandler, Mr. Nicho-
las No}-es, Nicholas Wallington, Capt.
William Gerrish, Mr. Percival Lowle,
James Kent, Robert Long, Richard
Pettingell, William Morse, John Davis,
John Smith, James Smith, James Jack-
man, Joseph Muzzey, Richard Dole,
Anthony Somerby, Nathaniel Clark.
Tristram Coffin, Nicholas N 03-68, senior,
Thomas Tarvill, Mr. John Gerrish.

Though during this controversy,
George Little adhered to his pastor, in
company with Philip Squire, Nathaniel
Cheney, William Sa}-er and wife, Ben-
jamin Morse and wife, Mr. Edward
Woodman and wife, John Saver and
Abel Merrill, he joined the Baptist
church at Boston, and in 1682 that
church assented to the formation of a
Baptist church in Newbury. This
church never gained many converts,
and it was too few in numbers to long
maintain a separate existence.

In 1654, "John Emery was chosen
to answer at the next court at Ipswich,
concerning the presentment about the
way to Andover."

April 10, 1644. "There was laid out
to John Emer}-, jun., four-score akers
of upland, bee it more or lesse joining
unto Merrimacke river on the north,
and running from the mouth of Arti-
choke river, unto a marked tree by a
swampe on the north-west corner, being
about one hundred and thirty-two rods
long at the head of the cove, thence
about a hundred rods to the south-
east corner, thence running a strait

lyne about a hundred and fifty-six
rods to Artichoke river on the east
about eighty rods broad."

March 3. 1679, the town granted to
Sergeant John Emery twelve acres of
land on the west side of Artichoke riv-
er, "provided he build and maintain.*
corn mill, to grind the town's corn from
time to time, and to build it within one
}-ear and a half after the date hereof,"
and so forth. This farm is still owned
by the descendants of John Emery, jr.
John Emery, senior, passed the latter
part of his life there ; he died Nov. 3,
1683, aged 85.

A portion of the estate of David
Emery, above, on the main road, is
still in the possession of his descend-
ants, and there is a wood lot owned
in my family which was purchased with
money inherited from that ancestor.

Jonathan Emery, the j-oungest son
of John Emery, senior, fought through
King Philip's war, with the renowned
"Flower of Essex." He belonged to
Major Appleton's company, which was
considered the ci'ack company of the
Small arm}-. In the archives at the
state-house, Boston, is the original mus-
ter-roll of the compan}-, and it is there
recorded: " Jonathan Emery, wounded
in the neck." This wound, from an
Indian arrow, was received at the cap-
ture of the fort in Narraganset, Dec.
19, 1675.

This was a terrible battle, the most
sanguinary of the campaign. The In-
dians had built a fort in the Narragau-
set country. Within a strong palisade
of timber were nearly five hundred wig-
wams, sheltering nearly five thousand
persons, with great store of provisions.
The cold was intense, and the air filled
with a frosty rime, as our brave little
army drew near to the great swamp.

OF A KO^AGEIs T AEIA]Sr.

147

Around the fated hamlet, outside the
palisade, was a high barricade of felled
trees, almost or quite impossible to
climb, and a nearly impenetrable thick-
et of swamp wood ; surrounding these
defences was a broad moat filled with
water, which could only be crossed by
passing over a large tree placed by the
Indians for a bridge. At about one
o'clock p. m. our bold men began the
attack. Though they were obliged to
pass over that tree trunk single file, in
the face of a terrible fire from the ene-
my, which sent man}- a man instantly
to his death, they persisted, again and
again. Six of our captains were killed
and a proportionate number of men,
before a few of the brave soldiers ef-
fected an entrance into the five- acre
enclosure of the Indians. Here the
slaughter was hand to hand, with horri-
ble odds against the invaders. Never-
the-less, the}- won the day. The cry
that the Indians were flying rallied our
men outside, who had recoiled some-
what from the death-line of the tree.
The Indians were left dead in heaps
" upon ye snow." The wigwams were
soon in flames, and several hundred of
the hapless children of the forest per-
ished in the fire ; other hundreds
were taken prisoners, while the great
Philip barely escaped. Our army lost
about eighty killed and nearly one hun-
dred and fifty wounded. The total loss
of the Indians was computed at about
a thousand. After this fearful combat
our people marched seventeen or eigh-
teen miles " in a most horrid and bois-
terous night," before the wounded
could be cared for. Several of our
dead were left in the burning ruins of
the fort. The sufferings " of the Eng-
lish after this fight have hardly a paral-
lel in history." What, then, must have

been the sufferings of the Indians?
The English lions won their victory, at
great cost of pain and blood, over the
Indian tigers.

Jonathan Emery after
his return from the war
used this seal, which he
probably had engraved
to commemorate his
deeds and sufferings. The Lion repre-
senting the bold Briton inspiring terror,
the arrow seized by the rampant beast,
the emblem of Indian warfare, which
from its position indicates the Lion's
victory, The decendants of John jr.
and Jonathan Emery have become
widely scattered, Many have been,
and are still counted amongst the prom-
inent men and women of the country.
The name has been, and still is, well
represented, amongst the clergy, at the
bar, in the medical profession, in the
military, literary and mercantile walks
of life. Some of the family have ex-
celled in mechanics, and in an unusual
degree as a race, the} 1 possess the tal-
ent of a "ready writer."

The spirit of emigration decended
from the sires. Several of the family
pressing into the wilderness, founded,
what are now flourishing towns. Mo-
ses Emery, a great grandson of John
Emery jr. was the first settler at Minot,
Maine. Edward Emery, seventh son
of Jonathan Emery, married a Miss
Sarah Sibley and settled at Contoocook
(now Boscawen, N. H,) in 1734 or
thereabouts. In 1740 he was one of a
committee there to secure a minister
for the plantation. He was killed by
the Indians while hunting beaver at
Newfound Lake, in 1756. Ezekiel
Flanders his companion was also slain
by the savages. Anthony Emery, third
son of John and Hannah Emery, grad-

148

KEMIXISCEXCES

uated from Harvard College in 1736.
He was surgeon in the English arm}' at
the capture of Louisburg. and was the
first physician at Chelmsford, Mass.,
then at Hampton N. H., where he died,
Aug. 19th, 1781, aged 67. Dr. Emery

O ' O

was one of the proprietors of Andover
N. H., which for some time bore the
designation of "Emery Town." His
son William settled on his father's land,
being the third settler in the town. His
son, Captain Anthoiry Emery succeeded
on the paternal acres, where he was
distinguished as a sheep-grower. He
kept more sheep, sold more mutton, and
procured the manufacture of more of
the old-fashioned coverlets, than any
three men in his count}'.

Rev. Samuel Emery, born in New-
bury Dec. 20th, 1670, graduated at
Harvard in 1691, and was ordained in
Wells, Me., the 29th of October 1701,
he died Dec. 18th, 1724.

Rev. Stephen Emery was born in
Newbury, graduated at Harvard in
1730 ; was soon after settled over the
societ} T in Nottingham, N. H.

Thomas Emery, son of David Emery,
sen., graduated at Harvard in 1768,
and studied medicine ; he died Nov.
21st, 1772. aged 22, leaving one son,
Thomas Emen*, who married first a
daughter of the Rev. Moses Hale of
the lower parish, by whom he had three
sons, Flavius, Charles and Moses ;
his second wife was Margaret, widow of
Joseph Coflin, of Old town.

Rev. Samuel M. Emery, son of
Moody and Abigail Emery, of New-
bury, now r West Newbury, born April
10th, 1804, graduated at Harvard in
1830, received the Master's degree at
Trinity college ; Hartford, Conn., and
several years after the honorary degree
of D. D., from the same. He was or-

dained Deacon in Trinity church, Bos-
ton, in July, 1835, and soon afterwards
receiven a call to Trinity church, Port-
land, Conn., w r here he was ordahfed
priest. He remained rector of that
parish until August, 1870, nearly
thirt}'-five 3'ears. Since then he has
retired from the active duties of the
ministry. He married Mary Hale, only
child of Eliphalet Emery, Esq. of the
Artichoke river farm, and grand-
daughter of the Rev. Moses Hale.

Rev. Samuel Hopkins Emery, bom
Aug. 22d, 1815 ; graduated at Amherst
in 1834 ; at Andover Theological Sem-
inar}- in 1837 ; was ordained at Taun-
ton, Mass., Nov. 23d, 1837 ; pastor at
Quincy, 111., and Bedford, Mass. ;
stated supply at Chicago. Providence,
Bridgeport, Ct., and North Middle-
borough, Mass. ; now city missionary,
and minister of Cedar .street chapel,
Taunton, Mass. ; married, March 7th,
1838, Julia Reed of Taunton.

Rev. Joshua Emery, born in New-
buryport Aug. 1807, graduated at Am-
herst in 1831 ; at Andover Theological
Seminary in 1834 ; was ordained pastor
of Calvanistic Congregational Church,
Fitchburg Mass., May 13th 1835; was
called to First Church (old North) Wey-
inouth, Mass., Dec. 1837. and insl ail-
ed pastor Jan. 25th, 1838 ; retired from
active service in 1873. He marred
May 19th, J835, Hariet, daughter of
Jacob Peabody, of Salem. Mass.

Horace Brown, son of Hayden and
Hariet (Emery) Brown, and grandson of
Moses Emery, born in West Newbury
Aug. 31st, 1851, was fitted for college
at Phillip's Academy, Exeter and grad-
uated at Harvard in 1.S72, and the
Harvard Law School, in 1874. He
began the practice of his profession in
the office of Ives & Lincoln, Salem,

OF A

Mass., July 7th, 1874 ; was admitted to
the United States Supreme Court Jan.
1878 ; was elected to the State Legis-
lature, to represent the city of Salem,
Nov. 5th, 1878 ; is a member of the
Essex Institute, and of the American
Association for the Advancement of
Science.

Samuel E. Emery D. D. S;, son of
Rev. Samuel M. Emery, D. D., was
born at Portland, Conn., April 10th
1852. Graduated at the Boston Den-
tal College 1876. A practising dentist
in Newburyport.

Flavius Emery, son of Thomas and
Elizabeth (Hale)Elmery, married Eliz-
abeth Emery, daughter of 3 foody and
Abigail Emery, of West Newbmy,
Nov. 1 1826. Their son, Rufus Emery,
born July 25th, 1827 ; graduated at
Trinity college, Hartford, Conn., in

1854 ; was tutor in the Institution from

1855 to 1857. He graduated at the
Berkley Divinity school in Middle town,
Conn., in 1858; took charge of the
church in Southport, Conn., where,
Aug. 5th, he was ordained priest, re-
maining over the society about twelve
vears. lie married Adelaide, daughter
of Erastus and Mary W. Brainerd, of
Portland.' Conn., Nov. 17th, 1858.
Having resigned the parish of Trinity
church, Southport, he officiated some
two years in Calvary Church, Stoning-
ton, Conn., when he accepted a call to
the rectorship of St. Paul's Church
Newburg, N. Y.

Emery is both an ancient and an
historic name. In the "Doom's Day
Book," 1086, those of the Norman
French family D'Amery, who fol-
lowed the Conqueror to England, are
recorded as landed proprietors in Ox-
ford and Devon, in the mediaeval Latin
as Haimericus. At present the Emery s

x-\N usua

VN \ ery,

of England, as a rule, use the ortho-
graphic form, most prevalent in the
United States, though some as here,
prefer Amery or Amory. From the
old records, it is seen that the fh'st set-
tlers here, as was then common, spelled
the name in a variety of ways. John
Emery of Romsey, in old age, spelled
his name Emerry, but his will, now on
file among the Essex county, Massa-
chusetts court papers, exhibits his sig-
nature as John Emry. The name is
\ not rare in France ; there its
usual forms are Amory, Em-
and D'Emery. The
\"sj name d es not appear in
France previous to the Nor-
man invasion of Gaul. It
Avas brought with the fierce
followers of Rollo, gathered
from Norway, Sweden, Den-
mark, and some of the North
German provinces, who in
the early part of the tenth
century invaded the beauti-
ful land of Neustra, and
wrested it from Charles the
Simple, changing the name

to Normandy. It has been claimed
that the practice of giving "Sir" names
originated in Normandy, and was
transported to Great Britain at the
time of the conquest. The name
Emery, or its equivalent, however,
appears in Europe as early as the
fourth century, where it is found in
Switzerland, Spain and Italy, and it is
well known in German}-, Emmerich,
an ancient fortified town of Germany,
derived its name from Count Embric
or Emeric.

Anderson (Sir Names) Edinburgh,
18(>5, sa3's, "From A mala rich (exalted
ruler) Gothic has come descended in
regular transformation, Amalric, Alma-

150

REMINISCENCES

ric, Amaurj', Aimery, Ermenrich, and
Emerich, the English names Amoiy,
Damery, Darner and Emeiy."

Though of historic interest, it is not
general!}- known that this western con-
tinent, in a slightly modified form bears
the name under notice. Columbus nev-
er doubted that the lands he had dis-
covered were parts of the East Indies
or Asia ; but, after extended explora-
tion, Americus Vespucius (or Amerigo
Vespucci, as his name appears in Ital-
ian) became assured that the}- were no
other than a second or western conti-
nent. His written accounts of the cli-
mate, people and productions, obtained
a corroboration of this idea among the
inhabitants of the old world. The hon-
or of having his name applied to the
extent of the^mainland of South Amer-
ica, by him visited and described, was
not sought by the daring Florentine.
The suggestion of his name came from
Matthias Ringman, the poet, and a few
friends, students at the College of St.
Die in Lorraine, among the Vosges
mountains, in a corner of France. In
1507 they put forth a little work entitled
" Cosmographiae Introduces," in which
the suggestion was made that the New
World should be named America, after
a man, inasmuch as Europe and Asia
had been named after women. The
suggestion was adopted, and America
finally became the name of the whole
western continent. Thus was Ameri-
cus Yespucius honored in the use of
that part of his name which then had
been known for more than ten centu-
ries.

Dixon, in his " Sir Names," says :

" Emmery (F) , Armanarciks (Go :) ,
' Most exalted or universal ruler.' The
Gothic name became changed to Arma-
narich, Ermanarich, Ermenrich, Em-

menrich, etc. ; and from it were prob-
ably derived the English Sir names,
Emerich, Emery ke, and sometimes Em-
eiy. The forename of the Italian Ves-
pucci was also a corruption of the name
of a king of the Goths in the fourth
century."

Americus is not properly a corrup-
tion of the original Gothic, but rather
its legitimate Latinized form. Another
author (M. A. Lowe, Patronymica
Britannica) writes :

' ' From the personal name Emeric or
Almericus, equivalent to the Italian
Amerigo, Latinized Americus, whence
the name of the great western conti-
nent. It seems to have undergone the
following changes : Emeric, Emery,
Amery, Amary, Ammar}*, and, in the
Domesday Book, Haimericus. It is
asserted that the family of D' Amery
came to England with the Conqueror,
from Tours."

The following statement appears in
" English Sir-Names : their Source and
Signification," by Charles W. Bailey,
A. M., London, 1875 :

" Emery, though now .utterly forgot-
ten as a personal name, may be said to
live only in our Sir names. It was
once no unimportant sobriquet. Ame-
ric, Almeric, Emeric, and Eimeric, seem
to have been original spellings in Eng-
land, and thus, at least, it is more like-
ly to remind us that it is the same name
to which, in the Italian form of Ameri-
go, we owe the title of that vast ex-
panse of Western territory which is so
indissolubly connected with English in-
dustry and English interests."

While it is true that Emery is not
now used as a personal or given name
in England, it is frequently so used in
the Eastern States of America. All
things considei'ed, the name in question
may fairly claim to rank amongst the
most remarkable in the whole range of
personal nomenclature.

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

151

The arms of Amery, or Emery, are :

ARGENT, THREE BARS NEBULKK, GULES ; IN CHIEF, AS

MANY TOKTEAUX. CREST OUT OF A MURAL

CROWN, A DEMI-HORSE ARGENT, MANED

OR, COLLARED GULES, STUDDED

OF THE FIRST.
THE LEGEND, " FIDELIS ET SAUVIS."

Shatswell, Shotswell, Satchwell, or
Satchell. John, Ipswich, 1633 ; died
in 1647. His will was proved March
30. It names wife Joanna, son Rich-
ard, brother Theophilus, brother Cur-
win, and sister Mar}' Webster, widow
of John. The widow Mary (Shats-
well) Webster, with her children, John,
Thomas, Stephen, Israel, Nathan, Ma-
ry, Hannah, Elizabeth, and Abigail,
removed to Newbury about 1642. On
October 29, 1650, she married John
Emery. She died August 28, 1694.
John Emery was very fond of his step-
children, and the}- reciprocated the af-
fection. Israel and Nathan, the one
eighteen and the other fifteen years of
age, with their mother, soon after her
marriage, petitioned the General Court
to consent to their choosing their fath-
er-in-law, John Emery,' senior, and
brother, John Emery, jr., as their
guardians. All of the Websters were

remembered in Mr. Emery's will, where
they are styled "his dear children."

Hannah Webster married Thomas Em-
erson ; her daughter Hannah Emerson,
married Thomas Dustan, and became
the famous Indian slayer, to whose
memory a monument has been erected
in Haverhill.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Thomas Colman, born in 1602,
came from Marlboro, Wiltshire, Eng-
land, to Newbury, in the party who
landed with Messrs. Parker and No} T es.
His first wife Susanna, died the 17th of
Nov. 1650. The same year he re-
moved to Hampton, and married Mary,
widow of PMmund Johnson, July llth,
1651, who died in Hampton Jan. 30th,
1663. His third wife was Margery
. After 1680 he moved to Nan-

tucket, where he died in 1685, aged 83.
His children were Benjamin, Joseph,
Isaac, Joanna, John and Tobias. To-
bias, the last child of his third wife,
was the ancestor of the By field family.
Deacon Benjamin Colman, born in
1724, married first, Ann Brown, from
the Brown's Spring Farm on the main
road. This lady was a decendant of
John Brown of Turkey Hill, whose
dwelling was attacked b} 7 the Indians
in 1695. Their children were John,
Dudley, Thomas, Samuel, Benjamin,
Moses, Caleb, William and Mary.
Deacon Column's second wife, was
widow Sarah Stickney, whom he mar-
ried Oct. 27th, 1778. John, born 1774,
married a Miss Danforth. This was
the migratoiy couple I have mentioned.
Dudley, born Aug. 13th, 1745, grad-
uated at Harvard in 1765. He mar-
ried Mary, daughter of John and

152

REMINISCENCES

Mary (Whipple) Jones, and established
a tavern in Oldtown on the old Boston
road. The house is still standing on
High street, now styled the old Ilsley
house. He was town clerk for Nc w-
bury, and at the commencement of the
Revolutionary war entered the army,
where he attained the rank of colonel.
Mrs. Column, a tall, dignified woman,
possessing a superior education, and
"much elegance of manner, during
her husband's absence, conducted the
public house with great success. Col.
Colman removed to Boston, where for
several j'ears he was landlord of the
"Bunch of Grapes Tavern." His
health failing he purchased a farm in
Brookfield, N. H., where he died Nov.
16th, 1797.

The following items of Col. Col-
man's military career are of interest.
The first is taken from the order book
of Col. Moses Little, the October suc-
ceeding the battle of Long Island :

FORT CONSTITUTION,
Oct. 13th.

It is Gen. Greene's orders that my
Brigade move over the Ferry immedi-
ately. The regiments to leave a care-
ful officer & 12 men each to bring for-
ward their baggage to King's Bridge,
who is to take care that none of it be
left behind or lost. When the Reg'ts
are over the ferry, they will march to
Mt. Washington & remain there till
further orders. You will hurry the
march as fast as possible, as they must
cross the ferry this night.

Jxo. NIXON, B. C.

To Dudley Colman, A. B. M.

EAST CHESTER, Oct. 16th.
The several reg'ts in this Brigade
are to draw 4 days provision & have it
cooked immediately. The Q. M. will
apply to the assistant Q. M. Gen'l for
carriages to transport their provisions.
Col. Varnum's Keg't to relieve Col.
Nixon's at Frogg's Point this P. M.

Oct. 16th.

Sir : You are to order Col. Var-
num's reg't to inarch immediately to
Frogg's Neck to relieve Col. Ritzema's
or Col. Malcom's reg't (which of the
two you fin:! there not relieved) . You
will get a pilot from Col. Nixon's reg't
to direct them thither.

Jxo. Nixox, B. C.
To Dudley Colman, Brigade Major.

MILES SOUARE, ~)
EAST CHESTER.

Oct. 18th. 3

Sir : You will have a working party
of 300 men & officers ready to go to
work as soon as the tools arrive, which
I have sent for, & }'ou will see that suit-
able guards are mounted by each regi-
ment.

Jxo. NIXON, B. C.
To D. Colman, B. Major.

Subjoined is a copy of a letter from
Col. Dudley Colman to Col. Moses
Little, of Turkey Hill :

CAMP ALBANY.
Oct. 28th, 1777.
Dear Sir : I have the pleasure,
though late, to congratulate 3-011 on the
surrender of Gen. Burgoyne and his
army. Some of them doubtless you
will have the pleasure of seeing before
this reaches you. It ma.y I think be
reckoned among the extraordinary
events history furnishes us with to
have 5000 and upwards of veteran,
disciplined troops, besides followers of
the army surrounded & their resources
& retreat so cut off in the field, as to
oblige them to surrender prisoners of
war, without daring to come to further
action, is au event I do not recollect
to have met with in history, much less
did I ever expect to see it in this war.
I confess I could hardly believe it to be
a reality when I saw it, the prospect
was truly extremely pleasing to see
our troops paraded in the best order,
and to see them march as prisoners by
after they had laid down their arms,
who but a few days before had preten-
ded to despise (although at the same
time I believe they did not think so
lightly of us as the}" pretended) afford-

OF A

153

ed a most striking & agreeable pros-
pect. I can but mention the good
order observed by our troops on see-
ing them march by, no laughing or
marks of exultation were to be seen
among them, nothing more than a
manly joy appeared on the countenan-
ces of our troops, which showed that
the}* had fortitude of mind to bear
prosperity without being too much
elated, as well as to encounter the
greatest hardships & dangers. It has
likewise been observed to me by sev-
eral of the British officers, that the}"
did not expect to be received in so
polite a manner, & that they never saw
troops behave with more decency, or a
better spirit on such an occasion.

We have I think for the present re-
stored peace in the northern quarter &
although for a little time past viewed
the evacuation of Ticonderoga as a
misfortune, we may now see it has
proved a means of destroying this ene-
my.

Gen. Clinton has of late made an
attempt to come up the river & has de-
stroyed several places in order to make
a diversion in favor of Gen. Burgoyne,
but he was too late. We expect orders
to strike our tents every day, as we
have been under marching orders these
three days, & part of the army are
gone. I know not where we are to
march to, but suppose it to be down
the river, when if we can get between
the enemy & their ships, we shall en-
deavor to convince them that they are
not to proceed in the way they have
done, of destroying the property of
our fellow-countrymen. Please to give
my best regards to Mr. Gray and fam-
ily, & all friends, & I should be hap-
py to have a line from you.
I am, dear Sir,

Your most obedient,
humble servant,
DUDLEY COLMAN.

To Col. Moses Little, member of the
House of Representatives.

The following letter, dated Newbury,
July 19th, 1792, was written by Dea.
Benjamin Colman, soon after the death

of his second wife, to his son, Col.
Dudley Colman, in Boston. The latter
part refers to Col. Colman' s having em-
braced more liberal religious views
than those in which he had been edu-
cated. I omit an account of the sick-
ness of Mrs. Colman ; after announc-
ing her departure, Dea. Colman writes :

"In the time of her sickness, as well
as before, I used to put questions to
her that I might know the state of her
mind. She used always to entertain
a hope that God had given her a gra-
cious turn of mind, but she was press-
ing after that full assurance of an in-
terest in the favor of God, whereby she
might be actually ready for the sum-
mons of death & meet it with an
holy confidence. I can't say that she
did attain to that full assurance which
she wished & longed for, but about
three days before she died, which was
the last time I could understand what
she said, I ask'd her about the state
of her mind, how it was as to her hopes
& fears, and she answered me as near
as I can repeat in the following words,
viz : ' Mr. Colman, I am conscious to
myself of many failings, infirmities and
shortcomings, I have no righteousness
of my own to plead for my justification
before God, my only hppe of salvation
is in the atoning blood, and righteous-
ness of the great Redeemer, the Lord
Jesus Christ.' Some other things she
spake at the same time to the same
purpose, after that conversation her
speech failed, so that I could under-
stand but little she said, though she
continued near three days, I hope and
trust she was sincere and sound in the
faith, so that she is received to the
mercy of eternal life thro' Jesus Christ
our Lord. And now in my old age,
God has a second time deprived me of
a companion, my prayer is that God
will grant me his quickening grace that
I may double my diligence in prepar-
ing to follow my deceased wives to that
world of spirits to which we are all
hastening. And now my dear child,
what shall I say to you. You and I
20

154

KEMIXISCEXCES

dailey see that death is the end of all
men and women. :ind the wise man tells
us the living will lay it to heart, i e, we
should do so, & it' we are rational we
shall do so. if we act wisely for our-
selves we shall consider ourselves as we
are, probationers for that iinal state of
retribution & judgment after which
there will be no change consider my
dear child, you and I are near this
change of states, by which unconceiva-
ble happiness or unconceivable misery
will take place on us. I beseech you
to allow yourself a little time, if it be
but a quarter of an hour in a day, to
retire from compairy to your closet or
chamber to look into the state of your
immortal soul, and think with yourself
if 3'ou had a large estate in prospect,
even in this world, if you doubted as to
your title to the same, if you feared
you should lose all & be a beggar in
misery & distress, how solicitous would
you be to secure a good title to that es-
tate which you could keep & enjo}' but
for a short, limited time, but alas,
what a faint similitude is this to set
forth the favor of God, & an interest
in Christ, and an interest in that king-
dom, where you may enjoy all that
heart can wish or tho't conceive, con-
sider if you lose your soul, 'twill be an
infinite loss, an irreparable loss, there-
fore your all is at stake. I beseech
you la}- to heart Christ's own words viz :
what will it profit a man if he gain the
whole world & lose his soul,' these are
the words of him that is Wisdom itself
& truth itself, they are the words of
him that laid down his precious life a
ransome for mankind sinners; that
will be the final .Judge of all the world,
both Angels & men, for God the father
has constituted the Son, as God man.
Mediator to that office, and has given
assurance of it to ah 1 men in that he
has raised him from the dead, declared
him to be the son of God, with power
by his resurrection. Set him at his
own right hand, exalted him for this
very purpose, to give repentance & re-
mission of sins. This Jesus will be
our Judge at the last day, inspiration
tells us he will come in flaming fire to

take vengeance on them that know not
God. and that obey not the gospel of
our Lord Jesus Christ, who shall be
punished with everlasting destruction
from the presence of the Lord & from
the glory of his power. Dreadful
words, and more dreadful day, when
this exalted God man shall assume his
throne, appear in his robes of majesty,
to take vengeance on his enemies, on
all contemners, & sliters of gospel sal-
vation & mercy, which he has tendered
to^ost, perishing sinners, in & through
that precious blood of his, which he
shed for the remission of our sins, how
can we endure to hear that dreadful
sentence, depart from me ye cursed,
you have slited offered mercy, abused
my patience, resisted & grieved my
spirit, and now the door is shut. This
my dear child, will ineviably be the
doleful doom of all that set light by Je-
sus Christ & neglect the great salva-
tion, purchased by the blood of him
that was God as well as man. But am
I saying all this to an Infidel a Soci-
nian who denies the Divinity of Jesus
Christ, or to a Universalist. who hopes
& expects that all men will be saved at
last, tho' they have no gracious princi-
ple wrought in them in this life of pro-
bation & trial, or am I writing to a fa-
talist that presumes on the decrees of
God, and argues thus with himself:
if I am elected J shall be saved let me
do as I will, and live as I list ; and if
I am not elected, 'tis impossible for me
to be saved, let me do all that I can in
a way of means, and take ever so much
pains for the salvation of nry soul, be-
cause God's eternal decrees stand against
me. These pernicious tenets, and a
thousand more artfices the malicious
Adversary of our precious souls sug-
gests to us to wheedle us along by his
artful devices, till the summons of death
arrests us and then he will be sure of
us. O. my dear child, resist and shun
his devices, flee to Christ by faith now
while the door of mercy & hope are yet
open, make God in Christ your refuge,
& believe God's word, whatever his se-
cret decrees are (which you can not
know at your pleasure), his word &

OP A

155

promises are plain, viz, If you believe
ou the Lord Jesus Christ you shall be
saved, and as a good means to convince
you -of the perniciousness and falsity
of Socinian he re 33-, I beseech you for
3-0111- soul's sake, upon reading this let-
ter, to set apart some time in secret,
open 3'our bible, and read with prayer-
ful attention, the fore part of the first
chapter of St John's gospel, and beg
God that you may know the truth of
those words, viz, In the beginning was
the word, and the word was with God,
and the word was God*, &c., &c. I
beseech 3-011 not to think 3-0111' conver-
sion impossible, or that you cannot for-
sake 3'our old companions & steer
another course, these are Satan's devi-
ces to hold 3'ou where 3'ou are, till he
has made sure of 3-011 ; 1 pray the Lord
to pluck 3-011 out of his snare, & con-
found his devices, and set 3-011 at liber-
ty, for although his malice is infinite,
his power is limited, 3-011 are in God's
hands & he can deliver & save 3-011.
But if 3'ou are resolved to keep on &
live in a careless neglect of the salva-
tion of your immortal soul, if 3~ou still
harden 3-0111' heart and refuse to come
to Christ for life, I can 01113- tell you
niy soul shall weep in secret places for
you still, and that God will glorify his
justice in 3-0111' eternal destruction. But
how can 1 bear the tho't, that you my
dear child should be the object of God's
everlasting displeasure & wrath? Since
it is the last time I expect to write to
you, please to bear with me while I ex-
postulate the case with 3-011. wh\' will 3-011
die when life is to be had for the, taking?
God is yet upon a throne of glorious
grace, holding out the sceptre of his
merc3" to 3-011, his voice is to 3-011, man,
I call, &c., as I live saith the Lord. I
have no pleasure in the death of him
that dieth, but had rather he would turn
and live, him that cometh to me I will
in no wise cast out. But if 3*011 refuse
to hearken to nay expostulations, pray
my child hearken to Christ's expostula-
tions. Oh that they had known in this
their day, the things that belong to
their peace, this God speaks to you my
child, as I told 3-011 in my other letter,

3-011 are welcome to Christ if Christ be
welcome to 3-011, nothing does or can
hinder 3-0111' salvation if you be willing
to come to Christ for life, he sa3's, I
will take away the heart of stone, and
give 3'ou a heart of flesh, I will blot
out all your transgressions, tho' 3-0111'
sins are as scarlet or as crimson, tho'
3'our sins were as many as the sauda,
or as might3' as the mountains, tho'
your sins were as numerous as the stars
in the sl<y, the blood of Christ is suffi-
cient to expiate all their guilt, and his
spirit is able to purge awa3 r all the filth
of them, and to sprinkle 3-0111' guihYy con-
science with the blood which cleanses
from all sin & he still sa3*s, whosoever
will, let him come & take the water of
life freeby, & him that cometh to me, I
will in no wise cast out. God grant
for his name's sake that 3*ou ma3' be
made walling to accept his offered mer-
cy, and be made a triumph of his sov-
ereign grace, thro' Jesus Christ our
Lord. Amen. So pi^-s 3-0111- loving
parent,

BENJAMIN COLMAX."

Dea. Colman died in 1797.

Rev. Henr3' Colman, son of Col.
Dudle3-, a distinguished Unitarian cler-
g3'inan, was first settled at Hingham,
afterwards in Salem ; in his latter 3'ears
he became noted as an agriculturist and
an author.

Thomas, born in 1751, the third sou
of Deacon Benjamin Colman, graduat-
ed at Harvard in the class of 1770, and
was drowned at Newbuiy bar October
28, 1784.

Benjamin, born in 1752, married Ma-
ry Chute. He owned a farm nearly-
opposite the Congregational meeting-
house in By field, and was also engaged
in the shoe business. After his father's
decease he succeeded him as deacon in
the church.

Moses, born in 1755, inherited the
original farm of the first settler, Thom-
as Colniau, which, from his father, Col.

156

KEMIXISCEXCES

Jeremiah Col man, has descended to
Moses Colman, esq., of Boston. Mr.
Colman also carried on an extensive
butchering business. His first wife
was Dorothy Pearson, by whom he had
one son, Jeremiah. His second wife
was Bett}- (Little) Emery, who also
had one son, Daniel Colman.

Samuel, born in 1762, a graduate of
Harvard, married Susanna, grand-
daughter of Joseph Atkins, esq. He
studied medicine, and entered into prac-
tice in Augusta, Me. He afterwards
returned to Newburyport, engaged in
teaching, where he died in 181U, and
was interred in St. Paul's churchyard.

Caleb, born in 1762, married a MHS
Burbauk, and purchased a farm in Han-
over, N. H.

William, born in 1768, for a time re-
sided on the homestead, then removed
to Boscawen, N. H., where he owned
a farm and mill. His first wife was
Susan Thurston. She was the mother
of Daniel Thurston and Hannah (twins)
Dorothy, Judith, Sumner, Lucy, Mary,
and Bett}- who died in childhood. His
second wife was the widow Temple ;
she had three sons. Luiher, William
and David Emery. After her death
Mr. Colman married the widow Brown,
daughter of Mr. Moses Pillsbury of
Crane-neck hill.

Maiy, the only daughter, born in
1757, married Mr. Joseph Searle of
Byfield.

Charles Harris, oldest son of Daniel
Thurston and Nancy (Harris) Colman,
born February 8, 1819 ; graduated at
Bowdoln in 1843; October ID, 1844,
married Deborah Dinsmore of Auburn.
N. H. For many years Mr. Colman
has resided at the West.

Samuel, son of Samuel and Tamelia
(Chandler) Colman, and grandson of

Dr. Samuel Colman, born in 1832 ;
studied art ; went abroad in 1860,
studying in Paris and Spain ; was made
a member of the National Academy
in 1864 ; president of the American
Water Color Society in 1866 : resigned
in 1872 and went abroad spending
some j'ears in the principal cities of
Europe. He was married in 1862.
The Colman arms are :

PARTI PER FESS, OR, SABLE; A CROSS PATEE BETWEEN

TOUR MULLETS COUNTERCH ANGED. CRE^T,

A GREYHOUND'S HEAD.

The Hale family is of considerable
antiquity, and of high respectability in
England. Thomas Hale, of Codieote.
in Hertfordshire, married Anne, daugh-
ter of Edmund Mitchell, and had three
sons, Richard, William and John. Rich-
ard, the eldest son, purchased the es-
tate of King's Walden in Hertford-
shire, and died in 1620. His sou Wil-
liam succeeded him, and died in Aug-
ust. 1634. aged sixty-six. He left nine
children : Richard, born in 1596 ; Wil-
liam. 1597 ; Rowland, his heir ; George,
born July 30, 1601; Alicia, in 1603;
Wim-frida. in 1604 ; Thomas, in 1606 ;
Anne, in 16Q; and Dionesia, March
17, 1011.

Thomas Hale, with his wife Tamosiu,
came to Newbuiy in 1635, and located

OF A XONAGEXARIAN.

157

on the south side of the river Parker.
He died December 21, 1682, aged 78.
She died January 30, 1683. Children :
Thomas, born 1633 ; John, born 1636 ;
and Samuel.

Thomas Hale, jr., married Mary
Hutchinson of Danv.ers, May 26, 1657.
He died October, 1688. Children:
Thomas, born February, 1658; Mary,
born July 15, 1660; Abigail, born
April 8, 1662; Hannah, born Novem-
ber 29, 1663; Lyclia, born April 17,
1666; Elizabeth, born October 16,
1668 ; Joseph, born February 20, 1671 ;
Samuel, born June 6, 1674.

Capt. Thomas Hale married Sarah,
daughter of Ezekiel and Edna (IIol-
stead) Northern! of Rowley, May 16,
1682. Children: Thomas, born March
9, 1683; Edna, born November 21,
1684; Mary, born April 28, 1687;
Kzekiel, born May 13, 1689 ; Nathan,
born June 2, 1691 ; Sarah, born March
9, 1693; Ebenezer, born April 21,
1695 ; Daniel, born February 22, 1697 ;
Hannah, born June 7, 1699 ; Joshua,
born March 17, 1701.

Ezekiel Hale purchased a farm in the
west precinct, and married Ruth Moody
of Pipestave hill. She died, leaving
two daughters, Ruth, and Elizabeth
who died in childhood. Mr. Hale next
married Mary Sargent of Amesbury.
She died, leaving a daughter Mary.
His third wife was Sarah, daughter of
Parson Balch of Bradford. She died,
leaving a daughter Sarah. The fourth
wife was Mary (Poor) Spoflbrd. She
had one son, Ezekiel, and three daugh-
ters ; one of these married Mr. But-
trick, the second Mr. Hildreth, and the
third Squire Farnum of Dracut. Ruth,
the oldest daughter, married John, sec-
ond son of Capt. Edmund Little, of
Crane-neck hill. Mary, the second

daughter, married Enoch, the third son
of Capt. Edmund Little. Sarah, the
third daughter, married Mr. Moses
Pillsbury, of Crane-neck hill. From
the son, P^zekiel, descended Joshua
Hale, born in Dracut, August 27, 1777,
who died in New Orleans, of }'ellow
fever, August 29, 1817. He went to
Worcester, where he was a clothier and
builder of machine^, and was the first
who built a wool-carding machine in
New England. Rev. Christopher Sar-
gent Hale, Brown University 1820, and
Hon. Ezekiel James Madison Hale,
Dartmouth 1835, now of Haverliill,
Mass.

Daniel, fifth son of Capt. Thomas
Hale, married Judith Emery. He com-
manded a company in Col. Samuel
Waldo's Massachusetts regiment in the
expedition against Louisburg in 1745,
and was killed at the head of his com-
pany, in the trenches before that forti-
fication, May 21, 1745. His descend-
ants are numerous in Essex county,
Mass., and elsewhere. Among them
are the late Francis Pickard Hale, Bow-
doin 1845, of Charlestown, Mass., and
Daniel Harris Hale, esq., of Rowley,
president of the Rowley Historical
Society.

Rev. Moses Hale, born July 10,
1678; graduated at Harvard in 1699;
ordained in Newbury, Byfield, October,
1706 ; and died in January, 1743, aged
66

Rev. Moses Hale, born in Newbury
in 1703 ; graduated at Harvard in 1722 ;
was ordained in Chester, N. H., Octo-
ber 20, 1731, and dismissed June 4,
1735.

Rev. Moses Hale, born January 18,
1715 ; graduated at Harvard in 1734 ;
settled in Newbury, west parish, Feb-

158

REMINISCENCES

ruary 20, 1752 ; and died January 15,
1779, aged 64.

Rev. Moses Hale, son of the preced-
ing, born in Rowley, February 19, 1740 ;
graduated at Harvard in 1771 ; was or-
dained in Boxford, and died May 26,
1798.

Nathan Hale, born in Newbury,
March 1, 1720; graduated at Harvard
in 1739, and died in Newbury.

Samuel Hale, born in Newbury. Aug-
ust 24, 1718 ; graduated at Harvard in
1740. In 1745 he commanded a com-
pany of provincials at Louisburg, and
for more than thirt}' years was a dis-
tinguished teacher of }-outh in Ports-
mouth, N. H. He died July 10, 1807,
aged 89.

Thomas Hale of Newbury, Ma}- 25,
1797, married Alice, the eldest daugh-
ter of Col. Josiah Little. Children :

Rev. Benjamin, D.D., born November
23, 1797, graduated at Bowdoin Col-
lege in 1818, studied theology at An-
dover, was professor of chemistry and
mineralogy at Dartmouth College, pres-
ident of Hobart College, Geneva, N.Y..
for over tvventj- years, and the author
of various educational works. He
married, April 9, 1829, Mary Caroline
King. Dr. Hale died July 15, 1863.

Moses Little, born April 7, 1799.
An eminent business man of Boston,
deacon of the Bowdoin street church,
and the occupant of man}' responsible
positions. He married Maiy Lane,
j-oungest daughter of the Rev. James
Miltimore, first pastor of the Belleville
church. He died June 22, 1874.

Thomas, born October 13, 1800 ;
married Caroline Charlotte Jordan Oct-
ober 7, 1836. He died May 28, 1854.

Sarah, born March 29, 1802 ; died
April 9, 1834.

Josiah Little, born December 9, 1803 ;

entered the office of the Merchants In-
surance Company, of Boston, at the
age of eighteen, where his fidelity and
courteous manners soon won him pro-
motion. In 1825 he became secretary
of the AYashington Marine Insurance
Company, and in 1828, on the opening
of a branch office, he went to New
York as its manager. After a year of
marked success in this position, he
joined with the late AA r alter R. Jones in
establishing the Atlantic Insurance
Company of New York. To do this
he had to rai.se * 150, 000 of the capital
stock, and his Boston friends proved
their confidence in his character and
abilit} T l\y subscriptions to twice that
amount. In this position he remained
for twenty-five years, in which time the
Atlantic became the leading marine in-
surance company in the country. He
was compelled, by continued ill health,
to resign his office in 1854. In the
resolutions of respect and regret then
adopted, the trustees refer to the com-
pany as established essentially through
his active instrumentality, and as hav-
ing under his administration enjo^ved a
course of uninterrupted success. Mr.
Halejheld with an intelligent and firm
conviction the great doctrines of grace,
but without bigotiy or sectarianism.
The Bible was his constant companion,
and doing good his constant delight.
He died February 26, 1875.

Edward, born November 8, 1805;
married widow Elizabeth L. Brown Jan-
uary 30, 1837.

Mary, born Jury 5, 1807 ; died March
13, 1859.

Dr. Ebenezer, born April 28, 1809 ;
graduated at Dartmouth in 1829 ; mar-
ried Sarah Bannister June 13, 1844.
He died August 2, 1847.

Alice Little, born April 15, 1811 ;

OP A NONAGENARIAN.

159

married, April 23, 1832, Rev. John
Charles March, second pastor of the
Belleville church, who died September
26, 1846.

Capt. Joshua, born December 14,
1812 ; married S.ophia Cutler Tenney
January 4, 1844.

Alice, wife of Thomas Hale, died
July 27, 1819. On September 17, 1822,
Mr. Hale married Mary, fifth daughter
of Col. Josiah Little. Their only child
was James White, born September 8,
1827, and died October 11, 1832.

Mr. Thomas Hale died August 14,
1836. Mary, widow of Thomas Hale,
died January 26, 1871.

Benjamin, oldest son of Dr. Benja-
min Hale, born October 31, 1S27 ;
graduated at Hobart College in 1848 ;
October 29. 1855, he married Lucy
Balch Hale, only daughter of Col.
Ebenezer Hale.

Thomas, the second son, born July
11, 1834 ; graduated at Hobart College
in 1853 ; vice-president of the Pacific
Mutual Insurance Company, New York ;
February 24, 1870, married Lucy F.
Searcy.

Cyrus King, third son, born March
17, 1838 ; graduated at Hobart College
in 1858; May 9, 1866, married Alice
Little, only child of Capt. Joshua Hale ;
died June 6, 1874.

Dr. Josiah, fourth son, born April 1,
1841 ; graduated at Hobart College in
I860 ; studied medicine at Harvard
Medical School and in Europe ; April
24, 1873, he married Annie Skinner
Pierce.

Eben Thomas Hale, only son of Col.
Ebenezer and Lucy (Balch) Hale, born
May 9, 1842 ; graduated at Yale Col-
lege in 1862. That year he enlisted in
Forty-fifth Massachusetts regiment for
nine months' service, under General

Foster. Stationed at Newbern, N. C.,
the regiment did provost duty ; was in
the engagement at Whitehall and
Kingston, returning home in June,
1863. Afterward he studied law at
the Harvard Law School. His health
becoming impaired, he went to South
America in 1866, visiting Rio Janeiro
and other places of interest. After
his return he became a partner in the
firm of Lowell & Brett, stationers,
Boston, continuing in the business until
his death, which took place September
7, 1868.

Moses Hoyt Hale, born May 24,
1829 ; married C. Adeline Preston,
of Danvers, January 29, 1852 ; repre-
sented Salem in Massachusetts legisla-
ture in 1868 and 1869. Since Febru-
ary 14, 1870, a special agent of the
United States treasury department.
He died at his home in Danvers, in
1879.

Albert Hale, born September 13,,
1839 ; graduated at Harvard in 1861 ;
principal of the high school in Fair-
haven, Mass., from January, 1862, to
April, 1864 ; principal of female high
school at Newburyport, Mass., from
May, 1864, to November, 1865; pri-
vate tutor in Cambridge and Boston in
1865 and 1866 ; teacher in the English
high school, Boston, from 1866 ; since
1875 a master in said school. August
18, 1869, he married Katherine, daugh-
ter of Albert and Katherine (Daven-
port) Wood, of Newburyport.

Frank A. Hale, born January 8,
1854 ; received the degree of M. D.
March 1, 1876, at the Boston Univer-
sity School of Medicine.

160

REMIXISCEXCES

The arms of the Hales of King's
Walclen, are :

AZUBE, A CHEVRON EMBATTLED, COUNTER-EMBAT-
TLED OK. CREST A SNAKE PROPER. ENTWINE])
AROUND FIVE ARROWS OR, HEADED SABLE,
FEATHERED ARGENT. ONE IN PALE, FOUR
SALTIRE.

William Moody came from Ipswich,
England, to Ipswich, America, in 1634,
and to Newbury in 1635. His wife
was Sarah. Children : Joshua, Caleb,
William and Samuel.

Caleb Mood}* married Sara Pierce,
who died August 25, 1665. Children :
Daniel and Sara. His second wife was
Judith Bradbury. Children : Caleb,
Thomas, Judith, (born September 23,
1669, and died at Salisbury, January
28, 1679), Joshua, William, Samuel,
Maryland Judith.

Joshua Mood}- married Mary Green-
leaf in 1696. Children: Mary, born
June 26, 1697; Elisabeth, December
4, 1698 ; Joshua, born Nov. 11, 1700 ;
Abigail, born September 30, 1703;
and Judith, born October 26, 1705.

Elisabeth, second daughter of Mr.
Joshua Mood}", married my great-grand-
father, Capt. James Smith, the first
owner of the Crane-neck hill farm.

Caleb Moody, married Ruth Morse,
Dec. 9, 1690, and settled on a farm at

Pipestave hill, now known as the
Ridgway place. Their daughter Elisa-
beth, married Mr. Ezekiel Hale, whose
daughter Ruth, became the wife of
John Little, of Crane-neck hill.

William Moody, of Ipswich, Eng.,
settled on a farm in Oldtown, which is
still retained by his descendants ; the
son of Mr. X. Warren Moody, being
the ninth generation born on the place.

William Moody married Mehetabel
Sewell, November, 1684, and settled
on a farm in Byfield, where his descend-
ants became prominent citizens. It
was from one of these, Capt. Paul
Moody, that the company which found-
ed the first woolen factory in the state,
purchased the water power at the falls
of the river Parker. Perkins's cut
nails were first manufactured in the
mill house previously owned by Capt.
Moody. By such surroundings his
sons from youth, became initiated in
mechanics.

Paul Moody, jr., and Steven Kent,
manufactured the first broadcloth in the
United States, at the factory in Byfield.
Afterwards Mr. Moody was engaged
on the mills at Waltham, then in com-
pany with John Dummer. another By-
field genius, and Kirk Boot ; he was
prominent amongst the founders of the
city of Lowell, ranking as the first ma-
chinist in Xew England.

Davjd Moody, a younger brother,
superintended the construction of the
Boston mill dam, and for several years
was the surerintendent of the iron
works there.

The two oldest sons of Capt. Paul
Moody, Xathan and Samuel, after
graduating at Dartmouth college, with
another son, Enoch, went to Hallo well,
Maine, where Mr. Enoch Moody found-
ed the Hailowell bank. Afterwards he

OF A

161

returned to Massachusetts and became
a resident of Newburyport, where he
died.

Rev. Joshua Mood}-, the oldest son
of William, of England, born in 1632,
graduated at Harvard in 1655 ; was or-
dained at Portsmouth, N. H., 1671 ;
was minister of the first church in Bos-
ton, from May 23, 1684, till 1692, and
died in Boston, July 4, 1697, in his
65th }-ear. This divine was distinguish-
ed for his vehement opposition to the
witchcraft delusion, in which he stood
nearly alone amongst the New England
clergy, at the imminent risk of himself
becoming a victim to the popular frenzy.
Caleb, the second son of Mr. William
Mood}-, represented Newbury in the
General Court, where his plucky resist-
ance to the t}Tant, Sir Edmund An-
dross, caused him to be imprisoned for
treason.

Rev. Joseph Moodj^ of York, the
father of the renowned Master Moody
of Dummer Academy, was known
throughout the colony as "Handker-
chief Moody," from his wearing, for
many years, a handkerchief over his face
in the pulpit, or in any public place.
This monomania was induced bj r the
idea that he was responsible for the
death of an intimate friend ; to expiate
his sin he veiled his face forevermorc
from the sight of his fellow mortals.
This pious maniac was a man of, supe-
rior ability, which was manifested in
various civil offices, including that of
count}*- judge, which he 'held previous
to entering the ministry. His son,
Samuel Mood}', a graduate of Har-
vard in 1 763, became the first preceptor
of Dummer Academy, Master Moody
was a stout, stalwart man, odd and ec-
centric, but few teachers have been more
revered and beloved by their pupils,

amongst whom he lived to count with
some of the most eminent men in the
country. To dunces he showed as lit-
tle sympathy or mercy as Master Chase.
He was wont to mingle in the sports
of his scholars, whom he encouraged
to become good swimmers, for which
exercise the vicinity of the river
Parker gave ample opportunity. He
also, to the horror of the Puritan com-
munity, introduced dancing as a school
exercise, a French dancing master be-
ing hired to give the boys instruction.
I think the dancing hall was in the loft
of the school-room, in the gamble roof,
which was well lighted by end windows,
and dormer ones in front. This pro-
ject, which no one but the omnipotent
and favorite Master Moody could have
carried out, caused a great commotion.
Mrs. Daniel Chute, who had two sons
in the school, wrote a long poem, com-
mencing :

"Ye sons of Byfield, now draw near;

Leave worship for the dance ;
Nor farther walk in wisdom's ways,

But in the ways of France ;"

and Dea. Benjamin Colman, as long
an essay, in which he vehemently pro-
tested against this innovation, holding
forth in the strongest terms' its foolish
frivolity, and the enormity of promis-
cuous dancing in general.

For thirty years Master Moody held
undisputed sway over the academy ;
then the infirmities of age became so
evident that the appointment of a new
teacher was deemed a necessary. To
effect this it was expedient to obtain an
act of incorporation, which gave the
trustees greater control over the estab-
lishment. It was a delicate and pain-
ful task to ask the resignation of such
a man as Master Moody, and he did
not readily resign the sceptre he had so
21

162

REMIXISCEXCES

long wielded, but at length was induced
to do so, on March 25, 1790. He lived
until 1796, spending most of his time
amongst his old pupils, at whose homes
he ever met a cordial reception. He
died at Exeter, N. H. The following
is the epitaph on his tombstone, in the
graveyard at York, Me. :

" Integer vitw celerisque purus.
Here lies the remains of SAMUEL MOODY,
ESQ., Preceptor of Dummer Academy (the
First Institution of the kind in Mass.). He
left no child to mourn his sudden death (for
he died a Bachelor), yet his numerous pupils
in the U. S. will ever retain a lively sense of
the Sociability, Industry, Integrity and Piety
he possessed in an uncommon degree as well
as the disinterested, zealous, faithful and use-
ful manner he discharged the duties of the
Academy for 30 years. He died at Exeter
Dec. 17, act 70."

Rev. Samuel Moody, born January 4,
1675 ; graduated at Harvard in 1697 :
was ordained in York. Maine, Decem-
ber 20, 1700, and there died November
13, 1747. Parson Moody was chap-
lain in the arm}' at the reduction of
Louisburg. So confident was he of
the success of our troops that he took
with him a hatchet to cut the images in
the Catholic churches.

Samuel Mood}*, born in 1700, com-
manded the fort at Pemaquid. then Fort
George ; was a physician in Brunswick,
Me., where he died in 1758.

Rev. John Moody, born in 1 705 ;
graduated at Harvard in 1727 ; was or-
dained in Newmarket November 25,
1730, and died October 15, 1778, aged
se vent}-- three.

Rev. Amos Moody, born November
20, 1739 ; graduated at Harvard 1759 ;
was ordained in Pelham, N. H., Nov-
20, 1765; dismissed in 1792, and died
March 22, 1819, aged seventy-nine.

Rev. Silas Moody, born April 28,
1742; graduated at Harvard in 1761 ;
was ordained in Arundel January 9,
1771, and died in April, 1816.

Stephen Moody, Harvard, 1790, was
a lawyer in Gilmanton, N. H., where
he died.

The arms of Moodye (Ipswich. Co.
Suffolk, Eng.) are:

AKUENT, ON A CHEVRON, ENGRAILED SABLE. BETWEEN
THREE TREFOILS SLIPPED VERT, Ar- MANY LOZEN-
GES OK; ON A CHIEF AZCBE. TWO AKMS ISSUING
FROM CLOUDS PPK. VESTED BENDY OK, AND
GULIS, HOLDING IN HANDS A ROSE OF THE
LAST. CREST TWO ARMS EMBOWERED IN
SALTIRE, THE DEXTER VESTED GULES,
THE SOTISTER VERT, EACH HOLDING A
CUTLASS ARGENT, HILTED OR.

Richard, senior, and Stephen Kent,
brothers, with their wives, came to Ips-
wich in 1635, thence to "Newbury the
same year, in the party of first settlers.
with Messrs. Parker and Noyes. Ste-
phen Kent went to Haverhill, thence to
Woodbridge, N. J. His second wife,
Ann. died in 1660. He then married
Eleanor, widow of William Scadlock,
May 9, 1662. Children: Elisabeth,
Hannah, Steven, Rebecca and Mary.

Richard Keht, senior, had three sons
Richard, jr., and James, born in
England, and John, born in Newbury
a daughter, Rebecca, who married Sam-
uel Scullard, then John Bishop ; Sarah,
whom he left in England, and other
daughters. Richard Kent, senior,
maltster, was a large landholder ; his

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

163

house and malthouse were at the foot
of Kent street.

Richard Kent, jr., and his brother
James owned Kent's Island, and land
in Oldtown extending to Oldtown hill.

Richard Kent, jr. , married Jane

who died June 26, 1674. He married
his second wife, Mrs. Joanna David-
son, Jan. 6, 1675. He died Nov. 25,
1689, leaving no heirs.

James Kent died Dec. 12, 1681,
leaving one sou, John, who inherited
the whole estate. He married Mary
Hobbs Feb. 24, 1665. He made his
will the first of Januaiy, 1712, in which
he gave his dwelling-house, jbarn, shop,
and two orchards, half of his island,
household goods, a horse, etc., to his
wife, Mary, for her use and comfort
during life, and " to give, sell or dis-
pose of as she shall think fit among
her children and grandchildren at her
decease or before as she ma} r have oc-
casion. Also I give my said wife all
money I shall have in possession at the
time of my decease. To my son Rich-
ard Kent, I do confirm the gift of my
uncle Richard Kent, late of Newburj r ,
aforesaid, deceased, of eight score acres
of land upon said island given by my
said uncle to my said son, so as that he
may enjoy the same. I do give him
my said son the other half of sd. Island
both meadow and upland & appurte-
nances thereunto belonging, together
with all my housing & orchards there-
on, & all my common privileges &
rights in all the common undivided
lands for pastures where I have rights
within the township of Newbury afore-
sd & my wood lot, with all my right in
the lands where the sd. wood lot is
made, with all other of my estate both
real and personal wheresoever & what-
soever it may consist, excepting what

is before given to my wife, & that
which I do hereby give to the rest of
of my children, on condition that he
my sd. son Richard Kent do perform
the trust 1 shall repose & commit unto
him as my executor to this my last
will.

I give to my daughter Jane Smith,
the wife of my son-in-law James Smith
five pounds, together with what she has
already received & has been given her:

I give and bequeath to my son-in
law Jacob Toppan four pounds, to be
divided among the children of Sarah
Toppan his late wife deceased.

I give unto Sarah Thing, who was
the wife of my son James Kent, late of
Newbur}' aforesaid deceased, twemty
shillings.

I give unto Elizabeth Kent widow &
Relict of my son James Kent of New-
bury deceased twenty shillings.

I do ratify and confirm my late con-
veyance of my land in the upper com-
mons made to my grandson James
Smith jun, according to the tenor of
the deed & on the condition thereof
whereby I have conveyed the same to
him."

The bequest in the "upper com-
mons," was the James Smith farm, on
Crane-neck hill, West Newbury. As
the house was built in 1707, James
and Elizabeth (Moody) Smith had been
in possession five years, when this will
was written.

Col. Richard Kent married first, Mrs.
Sarah Greenleaf; second, Mrs. Han-
nah Carter of Charlestown, whose moth-
er was a daughter of Daniel Gookin, a
preacher much valued in his day. Col.
Kent by his will, entailed Kent's Island
to his son Richard, and after his de-
cease to his oldest son, and to the old-
est male heir forever. He was a prom-

164

KEMIXISCEXCES

inent and influential man in the town.
His monument on the old burying hill
bears the following inscription :

HERE LIES INTERRED
THE BODY OF

RICHARD KENT, ESQ.,

LATE COLONEL OF THE

SECOND REGIMENT IN THE

COCXTT F ESSEX, WHO DEPARTED

THIS LIFE MAY THE 8TH, 1740,
IN THE 68 YEAR OF HIS AGE.

Col. Kent's son, Richard, came into
possession of the whole of Kent Island
according to the entail, but the birth of
twins, his first sons, Stephen and Jo-
seph, on May 9, 1741, brought an un-
expected difficulty, as the nurse could
not or would not sa}* which was the
first born. This question has never
been decided, though a long and trouble-
some lawsuit ensued, which at length
was ended by an equal division of the
property. I give a copy of the final
decision by the court.

"COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS.

In the j'ear of oue Lord One Thous-
and Seven Hundred and Eighty Four,
an act for apportioning and Establish-
ing the Posession of the heirs at Law
of Richard Kent, son of Richard Kent,
late of Newbury deceast, to a certain
Island called Kent's Island in Newbury
aforesaid.

Whereas the said Richard Kent the
Father, by his last will and testament
bearing date the sixth day of May. in the
year of our Lord, One Thousand Seven
Hundred and Fort}-, among other things,
did devise that his son Richard above
said, should have and enjoy the whole
of the Island aforesaid during his nat-
ural life, and after his decease his old-
est Son should have and enjoy the
same, as an estate tail to his. and the
heirs male of his Body Forever. Which
last will and testament was afterwards
duly proved and approved and the
said Richard the son, on the death of
his father, entered into possession of
the premises devised as aforesaid, and
thereof died siezed, leaving issue Jo-

seph Kent and Stephen Kent twin
brothers, and Moses Kent, a }*oungcr
brother, his sole heirs, and thereupon
the sd. Joseph & Stephen entered into
the possession thereof, and still hold
the same, and by reason of some singu-
lar, and extraordinary circumstances
attending the birth of the said Joseph
and Stephen, it remained uncertain
which is the oldest son. although a suit
at law, and the verdict of two juries,
have been had to determine the ques-
tion. By which uncertainty great diffi-
culty and contention may further arise
among the heirs of the said Richard to
the utter ruin of the improvements,
and cultivation of so valuable an
an Island, and to the Disgust of divers
others good citizens, from preventing
of which :-*-

Be it enacted by the Senate and
House of Representatives, in General
Court assembled, and by the authority
of the same, that the Justices of the
Supreme Court, on the application of
the said Joseph. Stephen and Moses,
or on the application of either of them,
his or their heirs, shall cause partition
of the said Island to be made, and by
like Process as is provided for dividing
of other Real Estate on application to
the said Court :

One third part of the said Island
shall be set off to the said Joseph Kent
or his heirs, one third to the said Ste-
phen Kent or his heirs, one third to the
said Moses Kent or his heirs."

The island is now in possession of
the heir of Stephen Kent, Joshua Xoyes
Kent, he and his brother, John Kent,
being the seventh in descent from Rich-
ard Kent, jr., and Mr. Joshua N. Kent's
sons, and grandson, are the eighth and
ninth generations on the island, and
tenth in descent from Richard Kent,
sen. The Kents have been esteemed
and influential citizens. In 1636,
Richard Kent, sen. was chosen among
the first "'seven men," to conduct the
town's alf'airs. First called '-seven
men," then "town's men," finally "se-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

165

lectmen." Stephen, the brother of
Richard, sen., was one of the four,
who with Mr. Edward Eawson "coritra-
dicented" the order for moving the
meeting-house from the lower green.
In 1640 Richard Kent*, jr., "in ye
name of nine others," petitioned the
General Court, to grant that Newbury
should hold the whole of Plum Island,
"to relieve our pinching necessities."
During the trouble in the church, the
names of Richard, John and James
Kent are among those adhering to Mr.
Parker's part}'. In 1683, with ten oth-
ers, Capt. John Kent petitioned that
Newbury might be made a port of en-
try as well as Salem. This Capt. Kent
commanded the brig Merrimack, which
was taken by pirates in Martha's Vine-
yard sound, Aug. 22, 1669. In 1788,
Richard and Abel Kent gave the loca-
tion to the town of the lower part of
Kent street ; a lane led thence through
the Coker estate to High street, which
was called Coker's lane.

Amos Kent, graduate of Harvard,
1795, was a lawyer in Chester, N. H.

Moody Kent, graduate of Harvard,
1801 , practiced law in Concord, N. H.

The arms of Kent are :

ARGENT, LEOPARD'S HEAD OR; THREE MULLETS VERT,

TWO AND ONE COUNTERCHARGED.

CREST GRIFFIN'S HEAD OR.

Joseph Atkins, born in 1680, came
from Isle of Wight to Newbury, with his
wife, and sons, William and Joseph,
and William's wife, about 1728. Tra-
dition asserts that he had been a lieu-
tenant in the British navy, in the ser-
vice of Queen Anne. Mrs. Atkins,
whose maiden name was Strover, died
soon after her arrival, and the widower
married a second wife, Mary (Dudley)
Wainright, widow of Francis Wain-
right, daughter of Gov. Joseph Dud-
le}", and sister of Katherine, wife of
Lieut. -Gov. Dummer. Captain At-
kins, as he was styled, built a house
which is still standing on the lower side
of Strong street. At its erection it
was surrounded by extensive grounds
reaching to High street, a garden hand-
somely laid out stretched in front to the
river, and a broad avenue shaded b}*
trees led to the mansion. Capt. At-
kins was prominent both in the town
and church, being vestryman and war-
den at Queen, Ann's chapel, and a war-
den at St. Paul's. The erection of the
church by the "water side," was first
suggested b}~ him, and towards which
he gave fifty pounds, and at the first
sale of pews he headed the list by tak-
ing four, his son William taking a fifth.
In 1738, permission was granted Jo-
seph Atkins, esq., and sixty-four oth-
ers, to build a wharf at the foot of
Queen, now Market street. His tomb
in the St. Paul's church yard bears this
inscription :

"This stone is erected to the Memory of
Joseph Atkins Esquire. One of the Found-
ers and A Generous Benefactor of this
Church. Formerly an Eminent Merchant in
this Towne, and Highly Esteemed by those
who knew him. He departed this life Jan.
2d, 1773, Aged 92.

And of Mrs. Mary Atkins :

The Virtuous and amiable Relick of Jo-
seph Atkins, Esq., And Daughter of His
Excellency Joseph Dudley. She died No-
vember 12th, 1774. Aged 82.

166

KEMIXISCEXCES

Joseph and Mary Atkins had one
son, Dudle}', born in 1731 ; he gradu-
ated at Harvard in 1748.

Prior to the decease of Col. Richard
Kent, of Kent's Island. Col. Richard
having entailed the estate to his oldest
son, Richard, by his first wife, and to
the oldest male heir forever, the family
had removed to a residence owned by
Col. Kent in Newburyport, where he
died, and where his widow, formerly
Hannah (Gookin) Carter, and her chil-
dren, one son and two daughters by
second marriage, continued to reside.

Madam Kent was a superior woman,
possessed of a sound understanding
and great benevolence, and although a
most sincere and pious Christian, her
religion had nothing in it of austerity
or bigotry. On winter evenings it was
her custom to collect her children around
her to read to them from some instruct-
ive book, while she earnestly strove
to imbue them thoroughly with the
principles and precepts of the Bible.

Madam Kent was a neighbor of Capt.
Atkins. The society of this interest-
ing family must have been most conge-
nial to young Dudley Atkins ; on Ma}'
4, 1752, he led to the Imnenial altar
Miss Sarah Kent. Their children were
Maiy Rapell, born August, 1753 ; Jo-
seph, born April, 1755 ; Hannah, born
April, 1957 ; Katherine, born Oct.
1758; Dudley, born Sept., 1760: Re-
becca, born March, 1767.

Dudle} r Atkins was a prominent mer-
chant and a leading citizen of the town,
a warden and active member of St.
Paul's church.

Oct. 21, 1765, Newburyport held a
town meeting to instruct their represen-
tative. Dudley Atkins, esq.. "relating
to his acting in the General Court,"
respecting the Stamp Act. These in-

structions expressed the most loyal sen-
timents toward the king, but the Stamp
Act was esteemed a peculiar grievance,
and he was directed to use his influence
to his utmost ability "that the rights
and privileges of the province may be
preserved inviolate." A long list of
resolutions ends with abhorrence of all
seditious and mobbish insurrections, of
all breaches of the peace, and "that you
will readihy concur in any constitution-
al measure that may be necessary to se-
cure the public tranquillity."

The troubles with England increased,
but Dudley Atkins remained loyal to
King George. On one occasion his
house was surrounded b}~ a mob ; Mr.
Atkins being indisposed, several gentle-
men went to his assistance, but his
wife, the courageous Sarah (Kent) At-
kins quelled the infuriated populace.
Contrary to the remonstrance of friends,
she opened the door, and addressed
the tkrong, telling them, "that her hus-
band was ill in bed, might not live to
see them again ; they had always re-
spected him, and the}- ought not to mo-
lest her and her small and helpless chil-
dren." The evil spirit was laid. Prom-
ises of security were given, and the mob
retired with cheers for Madame Atkins.
Dudley Atkins, esq., died Sept. 24,
1761, aged 38 years. His widow went
to Amesbury where -she resided for a
time. Feeling the necessity of making
some exertion towards the support of
her young family, she determined to
open a store on State street, Newjbury-
port. This was in the building now occu-
pied by Mrs. Altar. It was mid-winter
when the removal took place, the furni-
ture and the family, with the exception
of Mrs. Atkins and a man-servant, had
gone, when a violent snow storm so
blocked the roads that it would be im-

OP A ETONAGENAKIAX.

167

possible to travel by the usual mode of
conveyance for some days. Unwilling
to remain thus separated from her
new home, where her presence was so
imperatively demanded, infusing her
spirit of enterprise, as was her wont,
into those around her, she obtained the
willing consent of her own man, and
another belonging to the farm, to draw
her to Newburyport on a hand-sled,
which they accomplished without any
great difficulty. Passing the house of
a friend, where a large part}* were as-
sembled at dinner, upon seeing her
unique equipage they rushed out with
ludicrous expressions of surprise and
congratulation, while the contrast be-
tween their situation and pursuits and
hers were vividly striking. Friends in
Boston supplied Madam Atkins with
fine goods, the store prospered, and be-
came the fashionable emporium of State
street.

Gov. Joseph Dudley married Rebec-
ca Tyng. Their son, Edward, brother
of Mrs. Joseph Atkins, left a large es-
tate in Tyngsborough to his daughter,
Mrs. Winslow. This lady, a childless
widow, proposed to adopt .young Dud-
ley Atkins, and make him her heir if
he would add Tyng to his name. As
there was the oldest son Joseph to
transmit the name of Atkins, this offer
was accepted, but Joseph Atkins, an
enterprising ship-master, died unmar-
ried. His vessel was wrecked on a re-
turn voyage, in a winter storm, and the
whole , crew perished. The body of
Capt. Atkins, found frozen to the mast,
was brought to the bereaved home for
burial amongst his kindred in St. Paul's
church yard. The stone erected to his
memory bears this inscription :

"Here are interred The Remains of CAPT.
JOSEPH ATKINS, who (with his whole Ship's

Company) perished by Shipwreck on Cape
Cod, Feb. ye 8th, 1787. Aged 31 years.

He that goeth on his way weeping &
beareth good Seed shall doubtless come again
with Joy brigning his Sheaves with him."

Mary Rapell Atkins married George,
son of George and Catherine (Gore)
Searle, in 1779. This lady was named
for a Wainright, daughter of Mrs. Jo-
seph Atkins, who married Judge Ra-
pell, an Englishmen, judge of the Su-
perior court, and judge of the Admir-
alty for these Provinces, in the time of
George 2d. It is said he never had
but one decision reversed during forty
years.

Hannah Atkins died Sept. 25, 1771,
in the 15th year of her age.

Katherine Atkins married Samuel
Elliot of Boston ; she was the ancest-
ress of Samuel Elliot, president of Har-
vard Universnrv, and other distinguished
persons.

Rebecca Atkins died June 23, 1842,
unmarried.

In 1788, Dudley A. Tyng, esq., pur-
chased the present Tyng estate on
High street for his mother, to which she
removed with her daughter Rebecca.

Mrs. George Searle,' having become
a widow with ten orphan children, took
her mother's store on State street, which
she kept until after the fire of 1811.
Mrs. Margaret Curson of Curson's mill
was her daughter.

Dudley Atkins Tyug fitted for college
at Dummer academy, graduated at Har-
vard in 1781, and studied law with
Judge Parsons in Newburyport. In
1795, he was appointed by Adams,
Collector of the district of Newbury-
port. For some years he was Record-
er of the Supreme Court of Massachu-
setts ; during this period he resided in
Cambridge, but Newburyport was his
favorite abode, and most of his sum-

168

REMINISCENCES

mers were passed here. He first mar-
ried Sarah, daughter of Stephen Higgin-
son of Boston ; second, her sister Elis-
abeth. Madam Sarah (Kent) Atkins
died on the 16th of October, 1810,
aged 81. In 1821, Squire Tyug bnilt
the lower of the two Tyng houses for his
sister Rebecca, and having remodelled
and enlarged the other mansion, in the
autumn of that year he returned to
Newburyport, which was his permanent
reisdeuce until his death on Aug. 1,
1829, aged 69. Dudley A. Tyng, like
his father and grand-father, was an ac-
tive and beneficent member of St. Paul's
church, filling the office of warden for
some j'ears. He gave a silver paten
for the communion service, which bears
this inscription :

PRESENTED BY HON. D. A. TYNG, ESQ.

In 1790, Hon. T. Dalton and D. A.
Tyng, esq., were chosen lay delegates
to a convention at Salem, to prepare
an Ecclesiastical constitution for Mas-
sachusetts, which was adopted Ivy St.
Paul's church, Jan. 16, 1791 ; the same
delegates with Hon. Jona. Jackson
and Mr. Lewis Jenkins were a commit-
tee to ratify the same at the next con-
vention in Boston.

Dudley A. and Sarah Tyng had eight
children : Sarah, who married first,
Charles Head ; second, Joseph Mar-
quand. Susan C., married Edward A.
Newton ; Dudley, who died in infan-
cy ; a second Dudley, who took the
name of Atkins.

Dr. Dudley Tj-ng Atkins graduated
at Harvard in 1816, and studied medi-
cine. He married Ann, daughter of
Judge Bowman of Wilksbarre, Pa.
Eor a time was practising physician in
Newburyport, afterwards went to the
city of New York, where he died
April 7, 1845.

The Rev. Stephen Higginson Tyng,
graduated at Harvard in 1817 ; was
professor at Jefferson college, set-
tled in Philadelphia, but for more
than forty }-ears had been the distin-
guished rector of St. George's Church,
New York. He has now retired from
the active duties of the ministiy. He
married, first, Anna, daughter of Bish-
op Griswold ; second, Susan, daughter
of John Mitchell, of Philadelphia.

Charles died June 20, 1879, aged 78.
He was a successful ship master, and
merchant ; was for many j'ears estab-
lished at Havana, Island of Cuba,
where he endeared hinself, by his
hearty sj-mpathy, and benevolence, to
his countrymen there. He married,
first, Anna Selina Anold, who died
July 5, 1831, aged 25 ; second, AnnaA.,
daughter of John H. Me Alpine, of
New York. The McAlpines are of
the oldest of the Highland Clans, dat-
ing back to Kenneth McAlpine. Feb.
6, in the year eight hundred and thir-
ty six.

Mary, married Robert Cross, esq.
She died some years since.

James, graduated at Bowdoiu in
1827, studied for the ministry, for
many }'ears was a rector in New York.
He married Matilda Degan, and died
April 6, 1879.

George Tyng, graduated at Har-
vard in 1822, and died April 2, 1823,
aged 25.

Many of my readers will remember
the genial, and hospitable Mis,s Re-
becca Atkins, aunt Becky, as she was
usually styled, and her pleasant home.
Her house, and that of Squire Tyng
have been modernized, but most of the
ancient heir- looms, that formely graced
them, are still retained. Amongst
these are fine portraits of Joseph At-

OF A

169

kins, esq. and Mary Dudlev, his sec-
ond wife, and a painting, representing
the visit of Queen Ann and the Royal
Family to the man of war, of which
young Atkins was Lieutenant, a new
vessel, then considered a model craft.
This picture Capt. Atkins brought to
America, and he held it in such esti-
mation as to bequeath it in his will, as
a special legacy to be transmitted from
his son, and son's son, through the
generations.

Capt. Joseph Atkins, the second son
of Joseph Atkins, esq., died a bachelor,
Feb. 6, 1782, aged 76.

Williajn Atkins, esq., the oldest son,
was a prominent merchant and citizen,
and an active member and warden of
St. Paul's church. His name stands
first on the list of two hundred and six
of the "water side" people who signed
the petition to be "set off from New-
biuy, and incorporated as a town by
themselves," and, in direct contradis-
tinction to his half-brother, Dudley,
was an active Whig, and enthusiastic
Revolutionist, being one of the Com-
mittee of Safety and Correspondence
appointed by the town on the 23d of
September, 1774. Before leaving Eng-
land, he had married Abigail Beck, by
whom he had one son and four daugh-
ters. He built a house near where
the present custom house now stands,
a handsome Colonial mansion, with
wainscotted rooms, deep window seats,
broad stone hearths, and fire-places
decorated with Dutch tiles depicting
Scripture scenes. At his death this
house was purchased by the father of
Captains John and Benjamin Harrod ;
there they and their sisters were born.
It Avas burned in the great fire of 1811,
then known as the Harrod house. The
Atkins family and their widowed sister,

Mrs. Dr. Samuel Colman, and her
children, at that time resided opposite ;
their house was also burned.

William Atkins, esq., died Aug. 27,
1788, aged 77.

Mrs. Abigail Atkins died Dec. 5,
1786, aged 68.

Miss Mary Atkins died Aug. 31,
1802, aged 64.

Hannah C. Atkins died June 6, 1811,
aged 57.

Elisabeth Atkins died July 30, 1838,
aged 88.

Susanna (Atkins) Colman died in
Salem, July 9, 1827, aged 65.

William Atkins, the only son, was
lost at sea.

The Atkins arms are :

OR, A CROSS QUARTERLY PIERCED FLORY AND COUNT-
ER FLOKY, AZURE; BETWEEN FOUR MULLETS
SABLK; CRESCENT, GULES, IN CHIEF.
CREST TWO GREYHOUNDS HEADS
ENBOSSED, COLLAR DOVETAILED,
PER PALE OR AND AZURE,
COUNTERCHANOED.

170

REMIXISCEXCES

Dudley and Tyng per pale. Dud-
ley Or, lion rampant. Tyng Ar-
gent, on a chevron sable three martlets
proper. Crest a martlet.

Motto "Esse quam videri."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

At the trying period of the Revolu-
tion, Newbury and Newburyport dis-
played great heroism. At the first in-
telligence of the battle of Lexington,
four companies immediately marched to
the scene of action. Those from New-
bury were commanded by Colonel
Samuel Gerrish and Colonel Moses
Little. The Newbuiyport companies
were led by Capt. Ezra Lunt and
Colonel Benjamin Perkins. On a
stormy day, as we sat at our work,
grandmother, aunt Sarah and mother
often recalled those stirring times, and
of a winter's evening my father and
other friends frequently talked over the
events of the war. My father was an
excellent singer, and he was often in-
vited to sing the songs that had then

been popular. Two of these "The
Vision" and ' Burgoyne's Lamenta-
tion," I will note ; would that I could
give the voice, expression, and enthus-
iasm of the singer.

THE VISION.
"I was an oU fanner,

Was born in the woods,
Of late had a vision

From one of the gods.

"Last Saturday night,
As I slept on my bed,
The following dream
Came into my head :

"I thought I was towering

Aloft in the air,
Then rambled to Boston

To see what was there.

"First viewing the troops,
Which were tired of intrenching,

Then going to see Tom,

Who was giddy with drinking.

"For of wine, gin and ale

So freely he drank,
That he was'^scarce able

To visit his rank.

"His friends were all round him,

And if you think fitting,
I'll tell you the posture

The club was now sitting.

"There were Tim, Dick and Will,

And several more ;
I thought in the whole,

They would make nigh a score.

"Set round a large table,

But all at a pause,
To think of a plan
To enforce these new laws.

"I wondered at this,

And asking old Beetle,
For knowing the villain

Was apt for to tattle ;

"He honestly told me

What was the reason,
. The Devil, says he,

Has gone for a season,

"To help his fiiend N"orth
Project a new plan,

OF A

171

And when this is done,
We expect him again ;

"But if he should choose

For to tarry all winter,
We think it not safe,

Out of Boston to venture.

For the Congress has met,

And passed such votes,
That all our old plans

Are now come to nought.

"And the governor says,

So well do unite,
He believes the devilish villains

Determined to fight,

"And think it not best
To provoke them to blows,

Lest in a cold winter,
The harbor gets froze ;

"And if they should come over us,
Our fleet could not save us.

Of consequence,

The Devil must have us.

"Many such stories

He did me detain,
Till Tom got so well

He could stagger again.

"And laying his course

For crossing the hall,
He luckily met - .

With an impudent fall,

"Which brought him at last,
Two yards on the floor,
Which tickled me so,
I dreamed no more."

BURGOYNE'S LAMENTATION.

"Ye powers look down and pity my case,
For the once great Burgoyne is now in dis-
tress.

For I am surrounded by a numerous foe,
Who, I fear, my whole army will soon over-
throw.
"Oh, cursed be the villain who did us much

hurt,

Who carried to England so false a report.
For it is commonly reported in fair England,
That the sight of a Briton would make Yan-
kees run,

"That the report of a cannon would make
Yankees fly,

"Oh, were they as numerous as stars in the

sky.

To my woful experience I found it was false,
For of two, the Yankees are better than us.
"They will fight with great valor when in the

open field,
Take them in the forest, then Britons must

yield,
For they will shut up one eye, and squint at

the gun,

And we are surely dead as soon as that's done.
We stand no more chance among Yankee

paws,
Than to fling an old cat into hell without

claws."

On the arrival of the "courier" with
news of the Lexington fight, the min-
ute men of the upper parish quickly
gathered at the training field on the
main road. The company having been
formed, boards were thrown over an
ox-cart ; from this hastily improvised
rostrum, Parson Toppan spoke a few
words of patriotism and encouragement,
then invoked the Divine blessing upon
the gallant band. Meantime individu-
als were going from house to house,
collecting food and other necessaries.
The news came at midnight, and soon
after sunrise the company commenced
its march; the rations, baggage, etc.,
being conveyed by two ox- teams. One
can imagine the sensation throughout
the usually quiet country side. The
sorrowful faces and anxious hearts,
prayerfully striving to bear the worst
bravely, for the sake of country and
liberty.

By order q the selectmen on the
following day, a further supply of pro-
visions was forwarded to the troops.
Every household contributed, and the
donations were most generous. The
day had been a busy one at Crane-
neck ; the large and small ovens had
been filled and refilled; beef, pork,
hams, flour, meal and a small supply

172

KEMINTSCEXCES

of groceries and medicines, been pack-
ed ; lint been scraped and bandages
rolled. This was sad work, but pro-
vision must be made for the worst. It
was near sunset when aunt Sarah,
(then a girl of sixteen,) on her way to
the well, espied a horseman coming
at a furious pace up the road, swinging
his hat and shouting : "The regulars are
coming ! The}- have landed at Plum
Island, have got to Artichoke bridge,
are burning and killing all before them ! "
For an instant the maiden stood in
frightened bewilderment, then she ran
to communicate the news. The neigh-
bors flocked in, a terror stricken
throng, to counsel respecting further
measures. Most of the able bodied
men armed themselves and went to
seek the foe, if foe were there. After
the first excitement had passed, doubts
of the genuineness of the tidings arose.
.Neither my grandfather Smith, nor
grandsir Little credited the story, and
the}* advised every one, after the men
had marched away to stay quietly at
home until further intelligence could be
obtained. A few did so, but most, in
a perfect frenzy of fright, sought every
means for safety.

Uncle Thurrel's farm at that time be-
longed to the family of the late Dr.
Adams. This gentleman had been the
first physician to settle in the town ; he
acquired a wide spread practice in the
surrounding infant settlements, and at
his decease left a reputation for superi-
or knowledge and skill. The house
was occupied by his grandchildren,
and their aged and feeble widowed
mother. This household passed the
night in the greatest anxiety and
alarm. Having hidden their choicest
effects, the horse was harnessed to the
chaise, an uncovered vehicle on two

wheels, at that time the stylish equip-
age for ladies, which was drawn up
before the door through the night,
while the old lady, wrapped in a cover-
let sat through the long hours in her

O O

large arm chair, in readiness to be con-
veyed down "South End," a rocky,
steep declivity at the southerly side of
the hill, a descent from which one
might have expected as dire a catas-
trophe, as from a raid of any number
of "regulars."

Old Mr. Joshua Bartlett, commonly
designated "Uncle Vun," yoked his
oxen to the cart, and took his family
to the Platts place, a lone, unoccupied
farm-house, remote from the road.
Several families sought the same ref-
uge. Ool. Stephen Bartlett was an in-
fant just weaned ; in the flurry the jug
of milk had been left behind, and the
hungry babe demanded his food so lus-
tily, that some one in the distracted
throng proposed to kill him, lest his
cries should disclose their hiding place.

Hannah Eastman, an old, asthma-
tic woman, breathed so hard, she was
wrapped in a blanket and buried in the
leaves under a stone wall, at some dis-
tance from the house. After a sleep-
less night, at sunrise the croud ven-
tured home. One young fellow, in-
stead of marching to meet the "regu-
lars," skedaddled into the pasture,
having armed himself with a jnnk of
salt pork, and half a loaf brown bread,
in addition to his gun and powder
horn ; he climbed into an oak, and
quakingly awaited events. The night
wore on, da}' dawned, the sun rose,
ascended higher and higher, noon
passed, still the young hero durst not
venture from his sylvan retreat, until
his absence having created a general
alarm, he was descried by a squad of

OF A

173

relatives and neighbors who had insti-
tuted a search.

One gentleman hid his papers in a
hollow tree from which the}' were ex-
tracted with much difficulty ; his wife
lowered her silver spoons into the well,
and the servant girl, beside herself with
fright, pulled the "nubs and drops"
from her ears and flung them into the
same receptacle. The spoons were re-
covered, but the ear jewels could never
be found. It was an anxious and
sleepless night for all. I have often
heard Mrs. Moses Cohnan, then Betty
Little, a girl of nine, relate how she
fancied the wind in the chimney, and
the sizzling of the wood fire, were the
drums and fifes of the enemy. Towards
morning the men and bo}"S returned,
without sight or hearing of "regulars."
How this scare arose was never known,
but it was supposed to have been a
strategem to try the mettle of the peo-
ple.

Anxious weeks, which had brought
but few tidings from the army around
Boston, had glided awa} r . The morn-
ing of the seventeenth of June dawned,
a hot summer da} T . The spring had
been uncommonly warm, and vegeta-
tion was unusually forward. In those
days it was the custom to have men's
garments made at hoin j. Tailor Palm-
er, a veteran of the old French war,
came to Capt. Smith's that day to fash-
ion the go-to-meeting coats and breeches
for the summer. Aunt Sarah was sew-
ing with the tailor, when her ear caught
a rumble. "Did it thunder?" She
rose and looked from the door. Not a
cloud was in sight. Again and again
she caught the sound as of distant
thunder. The men came from the field
to luncheon, but paused to look and
listen. "I'll tell ye what 'tis," said the

tailor, "its big guns, cannon. There's
a battle." The noise increased, and it
was evident the old soldier was right.
Soon smoke was discerned on the
southern sk}^, which momentarily in-
creased in volume. It was thought
that Boston was burning. Higher and
higher rose the smoke, louder thundered
the cannon, work was forgotten, the
dinner remained untasted. People be-
gan to flock up the hill, in groups they
watched and listened. Slowly the lurid
sun sank in the sky, gradually the boom
of the guns ceased, the smoke cleared,
and all was over. Nothing could be
done but to await intelligence, with
what calmness and patience could be
summoned. The news of the battle of
Bunker Hill, and the burning of Charles-
town was received the next day, but
the full particulars did not come for
more than a week. I believe no one in
our companies were killed, a few were'
wounded. Col. Joseph Whitmore and
Sergeant Amos Pearson of Newbury-
port were wounded, and several men
killed. Capt. Ezra Lunt's company,
acting as rear guard, suffered severely.
Quite a number from the four com-
panies that fought at Bunker Hill
joined the disastrous expedition against
Quebec, the September following. This
force consisted of eleven companies of
musketmen and three companies of
riflemen, amounting to eleven hundred
men, under the command of Col. Ben-
edict Arnold, Lieut. -Colonel Christo-
pher Green of Rhode Island, and Ma-
jor Timothy Bigelow of Massachusetts.
The Newbury and Newburyport men
were in Capt. Ward's company. The
riflemen were commanded by Capt.
Daniel Morgan. The Rev. Samuel
Spring, afterwards the distinguished
pastor of the North church in Newbury-

174

REMIXISCEXCES

port, acted as chaplain. Many noted
men accompanied this band ; Matthew
Ogden, Aaron Burr, John I. Henry, af-
terwards Judge Henry of Pennsylva-
nia ; Captain, afterwards Gen. Henry
Dearborn of New Hampshire ; Major
Keturn I. Meigs, Captains William
Kendricks and Matthew Smith, with
others whose names have descended
amongst the Revolutionary heroes. The
detachment arrived in Xewburyport
Saturday, Sept. 16th, and embarked at
10 a. m. on Tuesdaj', the 19th, in elev-
en transports, sloops and schooners.
The troops were quartered in the rope-
walk of Edmund Swett, which extend-
ed from Fair to Federal streets ; the
riflemen bivouacked at the head of
Rolfe's lane, now Ocean avenue, and
the officers were entertained at the spa-
cious and hospitable mansions of Na-
thaniel Tracy and Tristram Dalton.

This was a notable epoch for Xcw-
buryport. The short sojourn of the
army was, made a season of gaiety.
The sunn}' side, with all the pomp and
pageantry of war.

On Sunday, the troops, with drums
rolling and flags frying, marched to the
Old South meeting house. This had
been completed *but a few years, and
was the largest and one of the finest
places of public worship in New Ens-
land. The high pulpit and elaborately-
ornamented sounding board were cele-
brated specimens of the style of the
period. To the right of the sacred
desk was a high seat for the sexton,
and before it the " elders' seat," a
square pew, raised a few steps, with a
table in the centre. In front of this
came the " deacon's seat." To this
was attached the communion table,
which was swung back when not in
use. A broad aisle and two side aisles

ran through the house. The pews were
square, with seats all around and a
chair in the centre. Spacious galleries
ran around three sides of the house,
the ' singing seats " being opposite the
pulpit, and at either end there were
large porches.

The troops, having halted in the
aisles, presented arms as their chaplain.
a keen-eyed, stalwart young fellow, six
feet high, passed through. The guns
having been stacked in the aisles,
the soldiers were seated in the body of
the house, the galleries and every other
available portion being packed by a
crowd of citizens. The clergyman
preached fromthe text, "If thy Spirit
go not up with us, carry us not up
hence." The eloquence and power of
the preacher made such an impression
on his audience, that before he left, a
promise had been secured that he
would return to the town, at the end
of the war. This promise was re-
deemed, and the South church and the
Rev. Dr. Samuel Spring, became
watchwords upon the hill of Ziou.
The following morning there was a
grand review, in which the men ap-
peared to great advantage, their spir-
its being raised b}* the presence of hun-
dreds of sympathizing spectators,
drawn thither from far and near. The
officers were entertained at dinner and
evening parties, at which majestic mat-
rons and lovely maidens, in their rich-
est brocades, and choicest gauzes and
laces, conversed most graciously and
smiled their sweetest, using every ex-
ertion for the amusement of the gallant
men, about to risk their lives on the
altar of liberty. In friendly courtes}',
glass clinked to glass with fervent
wishes for honor and success. Grace-
fully the stately minuet was danced.

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

175

Enthusiastically, patriotic songs were
sung to the accompaniment of the spin-
net or harpsicord. On the morning of
the nineteenth, amid cheer upon cheer
from the assembled multitude, the
troops embarked. In a perfect whirl-
wind of patriotic excitement, flags fly-
ing, drums beating and fifes playing.
the transports weighed anchor, their
sails gleaming in the bright sunlight ;
thej- slowly glided down the broad,
beautiful Merrimac, and with aching-
hearts, but a brave front, the citizens
dispersed, to pursue again the even
tenor of life.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

From the settlement of the town,
ship-building had been one of the chief
employments of the "water side peo-
ple." Prior to the revolution, this bus-
iness had been very lucrative. Though
many of the vessels launched at our
yards were owned and fitted for sea
b}- the "Port" merchants, others were
built expressly for the English market.
The British merchants purchased our
ships and lumber; in return we re-
ceived their manufactures, and the
produce from their possessions in the
West Indies. As Newburyport was
the centre for the trade of a wide agri-
cultural district, it had become one of
the most thriving of the sea-board
towns.

Partnerships often existed between
our merchants and individuals in Eng-
land. Mr. Benjamin Harris and an
English gentleman, Mr. Witter Cum-
mings, built a ship at Samuel Mogga-

ridge's yard, shortly before the war.
At the commencement of the troubles,
much of our merchant marine was sent
out as privateers. Some of these were
most successful, full} r repa}-ing their
owners for the business lost by the war.
So many prizes within a few days were
brought in to Mr. Joseph Marquand,
that in the press of the occasion, that
gentleman hastily exclaimed, "Oh Lord !
Thy servant has enough ; stay thy
hand." His prayer was answered,
for with subsequent losses, and the
great fire, the rich merchant died a
comparative!}' poor man.

Many of the vessels cleared from the
port were either lost at sea or taken by
the enemy. The fate of several with
that of their crews was never known.
The loss of one, the "Yankee Hero,"
carrying twenty guns, commanded by
Capt. James Tracy, brought mourning
throughout the town, as out of one
hundred and seventy men, fifty were
from Newburyport and vicinity, volun-
teers from some of the first families.

Those so unfortunate as to fall into
the enemy's hands, suffered great hard-
ship in the loathsome English prisons
and prison ships. The crews of the
brig Dalton, fitted out by Stephen
Hooper, and the brigantine Fanny,
were confined between two and three
years, in the Old Mill prison in Ply
mouth.

Many of the privateers were of small
burthen, and but poorly armed ; still
this hastily improvised navy did good'
service, making many notable captures,
and carrying havoc to the enemy's
fleet.

The following is the commission of
the commander of one of these ves-
sels :

176

REMINISCENCES

COLONY OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY.

The Major of the Council of the
Massachusetts Bay, New England.
To John AViggles worth, Gentleman,
Greeting.

You being appointed to take the
James Bowdoin Winthrop, Command
Rich'd Derby jr. of the armed Sloop
J. Gushing called the Swift, of the

S. Holton burthen of thirty-five

Jabez Fisher tons, or thereabouts,
Moses Gill mounting four swivels

B. White & one carriage Gun,

Benj. Austin and navigated by ten
Henry Gardener men, fitted out at the
W. Phillips expense, & for the
Dan. Davis service of this Colony.

B. Lincoln By virtue of the pow-

Dan. Hopkins er vested in us, we do
by these presents (reposing special
trust and confidence in your ability,
courage, and good conduct,) commis-
sion you accordingly, and give you the
said John Wiggles worth, full power
with such persons as shall engage to
your assistance, by force of arms to
attack, seize, and take the Ships, and
other Vessels belonging to the inhabi-
tants of Great Britain, or any of them
with Tackel, Apparel, furniture & Lad-
ing on the high seas, or between high
water and low water mark, and to
bring the same to some convenient Port
in this colony, in order that the courts,
which have been, or shall be hereafter
appointed to hear & determine maritime
causes, may proceed in due form to
condemn the said Captaines if they be
adjudged lawful Prize, the said John
Wigglesworth having given bonds to
the Treasurer of this Colony with suffi-
cient Sureties that nothing be done by
the said John Wigglesworth or any of
his Officers, Marines, or Company of
the said Vessel contrary to, or incon-
sistaut with the usage and customs of
Nations, and the instructions that are
or may be given to him by order of the
Great and General Court. And we
will, and require all our officers to give
Succour and assistance to the said John
Wigglesworth in the premises. This
commission to continue in force until
further orders.

Given under our hands and Seal of
the said colon}' at Watertown, the third
day of June in the year of our LORD,
one thousand seven hundred and sev-
enty-six.

By their Honor's Command.

Of the Newbuiyport vessels, a large
number were sent out by Messrs. Na-
thaniel and John Tracy. Their ships
captured one hundred and twenty sail,
which, with their cargoes, brought three
million, nine hundred and fifty thousand
dollars. Of this sum, one hundred and
sixty-seven thousand, two hundred and
nineteen dollars, was devoted to the
army and other public exigencies. Out
of one hundred and ten merchant ves-
sels, twenty-three of which were let-
ters-of-marque, only thirteen, and of
twenty-four cruisers, but one, remained
at the close of the war ; all the others
had been lost or captured. The ship
Friends, Capt. Bowie, of London, bound
to Boston with provisions for the Brit-
ish arm}', having mistaken her course,
on the morning of the loth of January
was discovered off the "Bar." Three
whale boats manned by armed men,
commanded by Capt. Offin Boardman,
immediately put out to her. Captain
Boardmau, representing himself as a
pilot from Boston, was taken on board.
Whilst the unsuspecting English cap-
tain was conversing with the supposed
pilot on the quarter-deck, the crews
from the three boats, seventeen in num-
ber, quietly ascended the gangway. See-
ing all was read}', Capt. Boardman in
stentorian tones ordered the English
flag to be struck. Overcome by aston-
ishment, neither the commander nor
crew made the least resistance, and the
prize was brought -in triumph to the
wharf.

The ship Hibernia, owned by Cap-
tains Joseph and John O'Brien, and

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

177

commanded by the latter, was very
successful. On her first cruise she cap-
tured three brigs, a ship, and two
schooners, in less than four weeks. In
this cruise she met with a sixteen-gun
ship, with which she had an engage-
ment that lasted nearly two hours, but
from which she finally escaped, with
the loss of three men and several
wounded.

Capt. AVilliam Russell, in the Gen.
Ward, a small vessel, mounting one
light swivel, with about a dozen men,
each armed with a musket, captured
two brigs and a schooner. Only two
men could be spared to be put on board
the schooner, and she was retaken, but
the brigs were brought safely into
town. The privateer Hawk, Captain
.lark Lee, sent in an English brig from
Oporto, loaded with wine, and a large
amount of specie. Captain Moses
Brown, in the privateer Gen. Arnold,
took several rich prizes, but was at
length captured by the British brig Ex-
periment, of fifty guns. Capt. Brown
was for some time confined on board a
prison ship at Savannah, Georgia, but
was exchanged, and returned to New-
buryport.

On May 19, 1780, occurred that phe-
nomenon, commonly called the "Dark
day." There had been extensive fires
in the woods, and for several da} r s pre-
vious the air had been thick, and the
sky murky. On the memorable nine-
teenth, the sun rose as usual, but soon
clouds began to appear and the whole
sky became overcast ; about ten o'clock
there was a slight shower. My mother,
then thirteen years of age, had gone to
the garret to give it the spring cleaning.
At first she thought a thunder shower
was rising, but the increasing dark-
ness, and the singular aspect without,

caused her to leave her work, and in
somewhat of a panic join the family
below. Dense, black clouds overspread
the heavens with a lighter gleam at the
horizon ; the fowls went to roost, and
the birds flew into the trees. The
darkness was the most intense between
twelve and one o'clock. Candles were
lighted for the dinner table, and the
meal was shorter and more silent than
usual. Both grandsir and grandma'm
Little were quiet, firm people ; there
was no undue excitement in their
household, still it was a strange, and
somewhat solemn day. Many families /
were in a perfect frenzy. ' ' The Judg-
ment Day had come," and amid tears
and piteous lamentations and confes-
sions, with pra}'er and Bible reading, the
frightened creatures tremblingly passed
the hours, momentarily expecting that
the dread trump would sound. The
darkness continued into the night, but
the following morning the sun rose
bright and the air had resumed its
usual clearness.

A while after, the inhabitants of the
upper parish had another fright. Mr.
Enos Bartlett, at the Training Field,
had a load of bricks to draw to Byfield.
The weather was intensely hot, and he
started soon after midnight. The cart
wheels were dry, needed greasing;
they soon began to creak. The noise
increased, until it blended into a series
of unearthly creaks and grinds . Along
the route every one was aroused, half
unconscious, and unable to understand
the diabolical sounds, most were terri-
bly frightened. As it was a still night,
the noise reached quite a distance, and
what it was could not be imagined.
Some thinking the last day had come,
fell to praying and reading their bibles.
When Mr. Bartlett reached the brook
23

178

REMINISCENCES

above grandsir Little's, he drove
through the water, thus ending the noise
and commotion. I have often heard
aunt Hannah describe the fright of
herself and the other children, roused
from sound sleep, but grandma'm hav-
ing ascertained the source of the dis-
cord, went about and quieted her flock,
and thereafter she would never permit
her girls to laugh at their more credu-
lous neighbors, bidding them, "to so
live that at any moment the judg-
ment might find them ready to give a
good account."

The depreciation of the paper mon-
ey issued by congress to meet the exi-
gencies of the war for a time caused
general disorder in monetary affairs, and
in some instances great distress. By
1780, the continental money had driv-
en nearly ah 1 the gold and silver out of
circulation, and this paper currency'
lessened in value with such rapidity
that in remote places, and where people
were unacquainted with the money mar-
ket, fraud could be easily perpetrated.
In this way Gen. John Peabody's
mother was cheated out of a large part
of her late husband's estate. She sold
the homestead for a good price, and
received in full payment a whole trunk
full of money, which to her utter
amazement and dismay she learned
was in reality not worth more than a
third of its nominal value. When I
was a child, I had several of these
continental bills, with which I used to
play shopping, and for years my father
kept one in his wallet as a memento,
laughingly averring that so long as this
bill was in his pocket he was not de-
void of mone}-. Aunt Sarah had a
calico dress, which cost a one hundred
dollar bill, and a set of knitting nee-
dles for which she paid a dollar. Mrs.

Moses Colman, then Betty Little, paid
one hundred and fifty dollars for sutH-
cient black silk to make a short cloak,
a sort of mantilla, then fashionable for
summer wear. She often laughingly
boasted of her one expensive garment.

In 1789, Washington on his eastern
tour visited Newbmyport. He came
Friday, Dec. 1. and remained until the
next morning.

In nry childhood I often heard descrip-
tions of the grandeur of his reception, and
on a stormy Sunday I often conned the
volumes of th6 "Essex Journal and New
Hampshire Packet," of December
fourth, which contained a full account
of the proceedings. This was the first
paper printed in the town, a Repub-
lican sheet, first published Dec. 4,
1773, by Thomas and Tinges, and con-
tinued by Ezra Lunt and John Mycall.
The President came by the old Boston
road, over the Parker river bridge, and
through Oldtown. At the upper green
he left his carriage, and mounted his
horse. He had been met at Ipswich
and escorted hither, by Marshall Jack-
son, the High Sheriff of the county of
Essex, the Hon. Tristram Dalton.
Maj. General Titcomb, and other offi-
cers and gentlemen from Xewburyport
and the surrounding towns, and two
companies of cavalry from Ipswich
and Andover. As the cortege moved
on to High street, it was met near
South, now Bromfield. by a long pro-
cession. The Artillery fired a Federal
salute, and a company of young men
sang the following ode :

"He comes. He comes! The Hero comes!
Sound, Sound your trumpets, Beat, Beat

your Drums.

From port, to port, let cannons roar,
His welcome to Xew England's shore.

Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome,
Welcome to New England's shore!

Prepare ! Prepare ! your Songs prepare,

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

179

Loud, loudly rend the echoing air;
From Pole to Pole, his praise resound,
For Virtue is with glory crowned.
Virtue, virtue, virtue, virtue,
Virtue is with glory crowned."

The lines in the first verse, which call
for the beating of drums and roaring
of cannon, were instantly obeyed,
after the pronunciation of each word,
and to the vocal was joined all the
instrumental music in both choruses,
which were repeated. Washington
was exceedingly pleased with this novel
reception, moved even to tears. Next
theTresident, preceded b}' the several
companies of Militia and Artiller}' of
the town, the Musicians, Selectmen,
High Sheriff and Marshall Jackson,
passed the Ministers, Physicians, Law-
yers, Magistrates, Town officers, Ma-
rine Societ3*, Tradesmen and Manu-
facturers, Captains of.. Vessels, Sailors,
and School Masters with their Scholars,
who had paraded, and opened to the
right and left, each of whom as the
President passed closed and joined in
the procession, which was terminated
by four hundred and twenty scholars,
all with quills in their hands, headed
by their Preceptors. Their motto,
"We are the free born subjects of the
I'nited States." This procession passed
through High to State street conducting
Washington to the residence of Nathan-
iel Tracy, esq., where he was enter-
tained in princely style. On his arri-
val he was greeted with the follow-
ing address, written by John Qnincy
Adams, then a student at law in the
ollice of Theophilus Parsons, e.sq., who
had been appointed by the town to
prepare it.

To the President of the United
States : Sir : When, by the unani-
mous suffrages of your countrymen,
3*011 were called to preside over their
public councils, the citizens of the town

of Newburyport participated in the
general JO3* that arose from anticipa-
ting an administration conducted by
the man to whose wisdoBBt and valor
they owed their liberties. Pleasing were
their reflections, that he who, by the
blessing of Heaven, had given them
their independance, would again relin-
quish the felicities of domestic retire-
ment, to teach 'them its just value.
They have seen 3*ou, victorious, leave
the field, followed with the applause of
a grateful country ; and they now see
3*011, entwining the Olive with the Lau-
rel, and, in peace, giving security and
happiness to a people, whom in war,
3*011 covered with glory. At the pres-
ent moment, they indulge themselves
in sentiments of joy, resulting from a
principle, perhaps less elevated, but
exceedingly dear to their hearts, from
a gratification of their affections, in be-
holding personall-- among them, the
Friend, the Benefactor, and the Father
of their Country.

They cannot hope, Sir, to exhibit
any pecular marks of attachment to
3*our person ; for, could they express
their feelings of the most ardent and
sincere gratitude, they would only re-
peat the sentiments, which are deeply*
impressed upon the hearts of all their
fellow citizens ; but, in justice to them-
selves, they beg leave to assure 3*ou,
that in no part of the United States
are those sentiments of gratitude and
affection more cordial and animated
than in the town, which, at this time,'
is honored with 3*our presence.

Long, sir, may yon continue the or-
nament and support of these States,
and may the period be late, when 3 r ou
shall be called to receive a reward, ad-
equate to 3*our virtue, which it is not
in the power of this country to bestow.

The President replied as follows :
"To the citizens of the town of New-
buiyport :

Gentlemen : The demonstrations of
respect and affection which 3*011 are
pleased to pa3* to an individual whose
highest pretension is to rank as your
fellow-citizen, are of a nature too dis-

180.

REMINISCENCES

tinguished not to claim the warmest re-
turn that gratitude can make.

My endeavors to be iiseful to my
country have been no more than the
result of conscious duty. Regards like
yours, would reward services of the
highest estimation and sacrifice ; yet,
it is due to my feelings, that I should
tell you those regards are received with
esteem, and replied to with sincerity.

In visiting the town of Newburyport,
I have obeyed a favorite inclination,
and I am much gratified bj- the indul-
gence. In expressing a sincere wish
for its prosperity, and the happiness
of its inhabitants, I do justice to my
own sentiments and their merit."

A feu de joie was fired by the mili-
tia companies, and in the evening there
was a display of fireworks. Saturday
morning the President started for Ports-
mouth, under the escort that conducted
him into town, with the addition of a
large number of military and other gen-
tlemen of Newburyport, who accompa-
nied him to the New Hampshire line,
where he was met by Gen. Sullivan, Gov-
ernor of the State, with four companies
of light-horse, who conducted him to
Portsmouth. This was previous to the
erection of the Essex Merrimac bridge,
and Washington crossed the river at
the Amesbury ferry. The Marine so-
% ciet}' fitted and decorated a barge for
that purpose, which was commanded
by one their members, the bargemen
being dressed in white. As the boat
came midway the stream, a ship from
Teneriffe, gaily adorned with flags and
commanded by Captain Joseph A. de
Murrietta, fired the salute of his nation,
twenty-one guns. In Amesbury and
Salisbury the militia were paraded, and
saluted the President as he passed.

CHAPTER XXXV.

The French Revolution, and the gen-
eral confusion which reigned in Europe
after the decapitation of Louis XVI,
brought a large carrying trade to the
seaports of the Union. American ship-
ping was protected in the Texal, and
the Empress Catherine granted us the
freedom of the Baltic. A brisk trade
was opened with the English, French,
Spanish and Dutch possessions.
Though Newbur3 ? port prospered from
her foreign trade for a number of years,
yet man}- heavy losses occurred, and
much annoyance was experienced from
the divers decrees of the belligerent
powers. Under the pretext of recov-
ering English deserters, Great Britain
claimed the right of search. In the
exercise of this disputed right, frequent
seizures were made of what were called
enemy's goods goods shipped from
some nation with whom she was at
war. I'nder such pretexts, vessel and
cargo were confiscated, or subjected to
such delay and loss that the whole
profits of the voyage were absorbed.
In addition to the English insults
and injuries, the French, aggrieved
at the refusal of the United States to
form an alliance; with them, at the same
time affirming that we permitted British
to take French goods out of our ships,
adopted retaliatory measures, and
French privateers were fitted out to
prey on our merchantmen. In 1793,
the allied powers decreed that no ex-
portation of provisions to France should
be allowed, and they engaged to unite
to prevent neutral nations from supply-
ing her directly or indirectly. The
Empress Catherine also requested the
king of Sweden not to allow his ships
of war to convey merchantmen destined

OF A

181

for France. Thus our commerce met
with a continuation of entanglements.

For several years war had been
waged between Portugal and Algiers.
Hitherto, b}* a powerful fleet, Portugal
had confined the Algerine cruisers to
the Mediterranean, but in September,
1793, a truce was concluded between
the De} T of Algiers and the King of
Portugal. Thus the whole Algerine
fleet was let loose to prey upon the
commerce of the Atlantic. Many
American vessels were captured, the
crews robbed and reduced to slavery,
with no hope of release unless ran-
somed.

In the summer of 1793, the brig
Polly, commanded by Capt. Samuel
Baylej', a son of Mr. Samuel Bayley,
one of the wealthiest merchants of
Newburyport, was taken by an Alger-
ine cruiser, while on a voyage from
Baltimore to Cadiz., Several of the
crew also belonged in the town and vi-
cinity, and the news of their capture
created a great sensation. Though I
was then only six years old, I vividly
remember the heart-rending tales which
my father, on his return from town,
market days, used to relate, as from
time to time tidings of the suffering cap-
1 i VPS reached their friends. A large sum
was raised for their ransom. The fam-
ilies and friends of the prisoners con-
tributed generously, and appeal was
made in their behalf from the pulpits
of the various societies, and a contri-
bution taken, the Sunday preceding
the Thanksgiving after their capture.

The Dey of Algiers, thinking that
our government, in its anxiety for the
release of the prisoners, would acqui-
esce in any demand, set such an exor-
bitant price as their ransom that Con-
gress, not wishing to encourage his

piracy, demurred as to its payment ;
but in the December following their en-
slavement, this crew, with those of oth-
er American vessels, were furnished,
through Mr. Skjolderbrand, the Swed-
ish consul, with money^ and comforta-
ble clothing: each captain and super-
cargo receiving eight Spanish dollars
per month, the mates six, and the sail-
ors three each.

Meantime negotiations for the release
of our countiymen were continued
through Daniel Humphreys, esq., and
Joseph Donaldson , jr . , esq. At length,
in July, 1796, through the zealous ef-
forts of these gentlemen, and of Joel
Barlow, esq., consul-general of the
United States to Algiers, negotiations
were closed and the prisoners set at
liberty, but young Capt. Ba^'ley was
not permitted to return to his native
shores. On the second da}' of his
homeward voyage he was attacked with
the plague, from which he died, after
an illness of two days.

One of the mariners of the brig Polly
was John Foss, a native of By field.
After his return he published an ac-
count of his captivity, which was ex-
ceedingly interesting. At that time I
had never seen a geography "Morse,
& Parish's" was a later production
and Mr. Foss's delineation of foreign

places, the Mediterranean and Algiers,
was my introduction to a knowledge of
that part of the world. His descrip-
tions of the bagnio where the men were
confined, and the cruelty shown to the
prisoners, who were treated as slaves
and compelled to perform severe tasks
while heavily ironed, and subjected to
the bastinado and other barbarities for
the slightest offence, were touchingly
graphic. After three years' servitude,
on the llth of July, the prisoners were

182

REMENISCEXCE S

called from the bagnio and conducted
to the Dey to receive their passports,
and at 9 a. m. the}' embarked on a
ship belonging to a Jew, Mr. Baccri.
On the 12th, received provisions and
got ready for sea ; on the 13th, stood
to sea. On board were forty-eight Ne-
apolitans that had been ransomed : that
night one of these was taken sick with
the plague ; this man was taken on
shore by the harbor master. On the
14th, another Neapolitan was taken
sick ; he died on the 16th. On the 15th,
Capt. Bayley was taken ill. and died on
the 17th. Finding the plague raging
to such a degree, the ship put into
Marseilles. On the 8th of October,
Mr. Foss shipped as first mate on
board the ship Fortune of Philadelphia,
commanded by Capt. Michael Smith.
On the 17th, sailed from Marseilles,
bound to Bona in Algiers, where the
vessel arrived on the 7th of December.
On the loth of January, 1799, again
sailed for Marseilles ; on the 24th, was
boarded by his Britannic Majesty's ship
Pallas, treated politely, and permitted
to proceed. February 5th, about nine
leagues from Marseilles, the ship was
captured by his Britannic Majesty's
ships Inconstant and Blanche, and or-
dered to Porto Ferrajo in the island of
Elba, where they arrived on the 15th,
and were sent on shore on the 16th,
and not allowed to stay on board the
frigate unless the}' would enter his
Britannic Majesty's service. None were
willing to do so. One man was im-
pressed on board the Inconstant, and
three others entered onboard the Union,
a British transport ; the rest procured a
passage for Leghorn, but having been
robbed of their money and part of
their clothes, thej' found it difficult to
subsist until the vessel was ready to

sail. They sailed for Leghorn on the
23d. and arrived the next day, were:
kept in quarantine until the 5th of
March, on which day C'apt. Smith ar-
rived from Porto Ferrajo, and sailed
for Marseilles the 10th, with all the
crew but Mr. Foss and Moses Brown
of Newburyport, who were left sick in
the hospital. On the 20th, Mr. Foss
sailed from Leghorn in an open boat
for Piombino in Naples. On his arriv-
al he met Mr. Donaldson, the American
consul, who had been instrumental in
his deliverance from Algiers. In his
company he sailed for Porto Ferrajo,
arriving the same evening. On the
24th, they sailed for Leghorn, arriving
on the 26th.

On the second of April, Mr. Foss
embarked as passenger on board the
Mandonna del Rosario e san Vincenzo
Su-raro, of Ragusa, bound to Philadel-
phia ; sailed on the 4th, and on the llth,
was captured by a Spanish privateer
and carried into Barcelona ; was cleared
on the 12th, and again sailed, but on
the 20th, was again captured by a French
privateer, and carried into Almeria.
treated politely, and sailed on the 22d.
Oni:he 29th. the wind having been con-
trary for several days, they ran into
Malaya, where they remained until the
21st of May. Again sailed on the 22d.
On the same day was boarded by his
Britannic Majesty's ship Petteral. treat-
ed well, and permitted to proceed. On
the 23d, at 6 p. m. was boarded by two
Spanish privateers and carried into
Ceuta. Mr. Foss having struck one
of the privateer's men with a sword,
and wounded him on the arm. was put
into a dungeon, ironed hands and feet,
where he was kept about an hour and
a half. That same evening the vessel
sailed for Philadelphia. On the 28th.

OF A NONAOEN ARIAK.

183

was boarded by another Spanish pri-
vateer, and robbed ol' a quantity of
provisions, and the greater part of . the
clothes of the crew and passengers.
On the first of July was boarded by
his Britannic Majesty's ship Wool--
\vieh, were treated politely, and per-
mitted to proceed. Being short of
provisions, endeavors were made to
procure a supply from the Woolwich,
but she being also short none could be
obtained. On the 24th, spoke the brig
.Jeiferson from St. Croix, bound to
Philadelphia, from whom provisions
were obtained which were most thank-
fully received, as for nearly forty days
they had subsisted on one biscuit per
day, with oil and wine. On the 25th,
Mr. Foss arrived in Philadelphia,
where he was detained by indisposition
until the llth of August. He then
took passage in the schooner Ja}', be-
longing to Edgartown, bound to Bos-
ton, David Smith commander. He
arrived in Boston on the 17th. On the
23, he reached Newbmryport, and after
such a terrible and varied experience,
was restored to his family at Byfield.

I have made this extract from Mr.
Foss' journal, to show the peril wind
annoyance to which at that period our
marine were subjected.

Out of the nine persons who left
Baltimore on the brig Polly, only four
returned besides Mr. Foss. These were
Michael Smith, the lirst mate, Benja-
min Edwards, the second mate, and
Moses Brown, mariner. The others
all died of the plague. Capt. Samuel
E. Baykry, whose ransom had been
forwarded by his father, was a young
man of much promise, universally be-
loved and respected, and his sad fate
was greatly deplored. Subjoined are
some lines written by Capt. Bayley

while a prisoner in Algiers. They were
addressed to a young lady to whom he
was betrothed :

" To you, my friend, these lines I send,

Though distant far from me;
Though we're apart, my aching lieart
Is ever .still with thee.

To 1ft thee know my grief and woe

Is far beyond my ait;
1 can't express the .sore distress

That racks my pained lieart.

I mourn and weep while others sleep,

My nights are turned to day :
While time runs on, and hope forlorn,

And rest goes far away.

I think of thee where'er I be,

Of thy unhappy state:
My thoughts and care are always there

On thee I contemplate.

Though hard my fate and wretched state,

I pray for a relief;
That God would bless me in distress

And mitigate my grief.

Without neglect I shall respect

My parents till I die;
Their tender care for my welfare

Lives in my memory.

I trust in God who holds the rod

And doth chastise in love;
He can relieve the captive slave,

And hear him from above."

At this time imposters were often
met, tramping from place to place,
begging money, under the pretext of
raising the ransom of a son or brother
held in captivity at Algiers. For years
such persons were an annoyance eveiy-,
where, and often a terror to solitary
people in lone country houses.

CHAFIER XXXVI.

The conflicts of the French Revolu-
tion reached the French West Indian
colonies with even more intense cruel-
ties than in the mother country. One
day one part}' was in power, the next

184

REMINISCENCES

the opposite. On all sides persons in
authority were imprisoned and guillo-
tined, their property confiscated, and
their children outlawed. Mam* of the
most wealthy and influential citizens
became fugitives. As Newburyport
had a large West Indian commerce,
many of these exiles came thither. In
Guadaloupe the blood-thirsty mob
poured out upon the' noble families the
brutal passion of wild beasts. The
atrocities committed almost surpass be-
lief. Many met the most horrible
deaths ; a few were enabled to escape
to neighboring islands in boats ; and
about twenty succeeded in getting on
board of a brig belonging in Newbuiy-
port, which lay off the island, which ar-
rived at that port in March, 1792.
Among these exiles was St. Sauveur de
Poyen. His eldest and youngest sons,
Robert and St. Sauveur, were killed by
the brutal mob of republicans ; but the
father and three sons, Joseph Roch-
mont, Montrape, Dupiton, and two
daughters, escaped, and succeeded, af-
ter great suffering, in getting on board
the Newburyport brig.

St. Sauveur de Poyen was a direct
descendant from the Marquis Jean de
Poyen, who emigrated to the island of
Guadaloupe in 1658. He inherited all
the instincts and pride of the aristoc-
racy of France, the class to which he
belonged, and when the troublous times
of the French Revolution came, they
found him a staunch royalist and an ar-
dent defender of King Louis XVI.
The loss of home, change of climate,
grief and anxiety, was too much for
the exile ; he passed away only a few
months before Louis was beheaded,
the king to whose cause he was so
strongly attached, for which he sacri-
ficed a home of luxury and ease.

" Habitation Piton," five miles from
the romantic village of St. Rose, is the
point at which the French discovered
the island. The plantation borders on
the sea. A romantic ride by the shore
brings the ' ' Habitation " to view on a
small plateau, a little distance up the
side of the mountain. Turning from
the shore the road runs direct to the
"Habitation," through a valley filled
with sugar-cane. A broad avenue ter-
minates the valley road, with rows of
lofty palms on either side ; a winding
way leads to the dwelling. This
point presents a panorama of great
beauty. The valley, widening as it re-
cedes, is filled with luxuriant cane,
which also covers the mountains far up
their sides. About a mile from the
shore, a circular rock called "English-
man's head," rises from the water to
the height of one hundred feet, and is
the only object that breaks the surface
of the broad ocean to the horizon ; in
the distance two shadowy forms appear,
the islands of Montserrat and Antigua,
so indistinct and misty as not to break
the horizon line.

In a low, narrow valley in the old
gra^ej-ard on burying hill, in Newbury-
port, is a stone bearing this inscription :

SACKED TO THE MEMORY OF

MR. POYEN DE ST. SAUVEUR,

WHO FOR A LONG TIME WAS

AN INHABITANT & A REPUTABLE

PLANTER ON THE ISLAND

OF GUADULOUPE.

DIED OCTOBER 14TII, 1792,

AGED 52 TEAKS.

After a few }*ears, when affairs had
become settled, several of the surviv-
ing exiles returned to their homes.
Amongst those that remained were Jo-
seph Rochemont de Poyen, de St. Sau-
veur, (St. Sauveur indicated the branch
of the family to which he belonged),

OF A

185

and a sister who died in Baltimore.
This land of refuge had many attrac-
tions for young Poyen. He never
wearied of wandering up and down
the shores of the beautiful Merpmac.
Some twelve years were spent in care-
less, easy living, dividing his time be-,
tween the town, and the romantic villa-
ges along the river's bank. At one of
these, Rock's Bridge, (East Haverhill) ,
he at length passed most of his time.
It is a singularly picturesque spot, and
its natural beauties attracted the artistic
eye of the sensitive 3'oung Frenchman.
Here also he met the guiding star of
his life, Sally Elliot, a handsome, bril-
liant girl, a daughter of one of the
oldest families of the place, and with
the impetuous character of his race, he
carried off and married his willing
bride, in spite of the protest of her
parents. In this village they settled,
and children were born to them. Years
passed, and grandchildren also came,
and grew up to love the dear old man,
whose delight it was to play and dance
with them ; he grew old in years but
not in elasticity of spirit, and his life
went out in glorious 'fullness, at a ripe
old age. I well remember Sally EMiot ;
she made Rochemont de Po3~en a most
excellent wife ; and I vividly recall the
genial Frenchman ; a lithe, active man,
a great fancier of horse flesh, alwa} T s
ready for a trade ; he and my grandsir
Little frequently had dealings together.
His fiddle Avas also ever at the service
of the young folks. The beaux and
belles of the main road were often in-
debted to Mr. Poyen for the music at a
social dance. Though irascible and
impatient, he was the soul of wit and
good humor, happy in making all
around him happy.

The Poyen arms are :

GULES, A CHIEF AZURE, PEACOCK ON TERRACE VERT.
THREE MULLETS PROPER CREST MARQUIS'
CROWN, SUPPORTED BY TWO SAVAGES,
DEXTER CLUB AT GROUND, SINIS-
TER CLUB AT SHOULDER.

With the family of St. Sauveur de
Poyen came his nephew the Count Fran-
cis de Vipart, the son of a Count of the
same name, and a grandson of the Mar-
quis de Vipart. This young man re-
mained in America, accompanying his
cousin Joseph Rochemont de Poyen in
his wanderings upon the banks of the
Merrimac, and with him located at the
"Rocks." There he married another
of the village belles and beauties, Mary
Ingalls. The Ingalls family through
the Bradstreets, were connections of
my grandmother Little. Mary Ingalls
possessed uncommon personal and "men-
tal attractions. Of medium height, hair
in long golden curls, violet eyes, fair
complexion and rosy cheeks, "none
knew her but to love her." In a house
nestled between the hills, since for
many years owned and occupied by the
late Dr. Kennison, the French lord
wooed and won the Puritan maid.
Their moonlight sails, and saunterings
upon the pleasant Newbury shore, with
the sweet strains of the Count's violin,
are still remembered by a few aged in-
habitants.

The wedding created a great sensa-
tion in the quiet village. The bride
24

186

REMINISCENCES

looked supremely lovely in a dress of
pink satin, with an over dress of white
lace, and white satin slippers.

Though it was the delight of the
Count to lavish every luxury upon his
young wife 1 ^ she continued the same un-
pretending, modest person as before
marriage. A few short weeks of bliss,
and a shade fell over the sunlight of the
new life of the wedded pair. Naturally
delicate, continuous care and attention
to a sick mother, had planted the germs
of New England's scourge, consump-
tion, by which the Countess de Vipart
rapidly declined. In this illness she is
described as presenting an almost
seraphic loveliness. Reclining in an
eas}- chair, draped in white, her appear-
ance was that of a being of a higher
world than earth.

Not a twelvemonth from the joyous
bridal eve, the village bell pealed the
funeral knell, and the remains of the
lovely Mary Ingalls, Countess de Vi-
part, were deposited under the turf of
the quiet rural burial place on the hill
side, "beneath the locust bloom." A
low, slate stone, the style of the period,
marks her grave, it bears this inscrip-
tion ?

MARY,

WIFE OF FRANCIS VIPART,

OF GUADALOUPE.
DIED JANL'AUY 5, 1807,

AGED 21 YEARS.

This incident of the union of the ex-
iled nobleman and the New England
maiden, Whittier has woven into one of
his most pleasing ballads, and in his
''Countess" it will be perpetuated to
future generations

''The Gascon lord, the village maid,
In death still clasp their hands;
The love that levels rank and grade,
Unite their severed hand.-;.'"'

Overwhelmed with grief, the stricken
husband soon after his wife's death, re-

turned to his West Indian home. Sev-
eral articles that had belonged to the
Count and his bride, are still cherished
as sacred mementoes, b}* relatives and
friends, in the vicinity of the home of
their brief wedded life.

Time having in a measure healed the
heart wound, Count de Vipart again
married in Guadaloupe, where he died
and was buried. His descendants still
reside at their homes on the island,
ranking high in the order of nobility.

The retired valley on the old burying
hill, Newburyport. contains the re-
mains of several French exiles, who
died during the years from 1792 to
1812. Doubtless the whole number
were Catholics, and as at that period
no ground had been consecrated in the
Puritan town, this quiet spot was chos-
en in a Protestant burial ground, t
la}- their bodies apart from others,
when their spirits had departed a
spot doubly consecrated by the tears
and prayers of surviving relatives and
friends. Most of these graves were
marked by head stones ; some of these
have been broken ; those that remain
are inscribed as follows :

CI GIT

MAPIE FELICITTE NADAU,

NEE A LA BASS OL'PE

DECEDE LE 19TII FEVK'KH, 181 '3,

AGEE DE 25 ANS, ET G JIOIS.
ESPOCSEDE MU. PIF.i: ' M)K,

HAUITAXT AU QUAKTIEH J)J.
DE LA DITTE ILE.

JOHN UAI'TISTE DATOUR, i

FOUMEKLY OK OKA N i'EIMJE !N Till, 1-LAND

OK Gl. A!

DIED APRIL 24. 1797,
AGED 74.

II EKE LIES
A GOD SON,

JAQUE MESTUK,

WHO DIED

AUG'ST 2ND, 1793,

AGED 21 YEA US.

OP A

187

HERE LIES
A GOOD SOX,

LOUIS EN MESTRE,

WHO DIED

DEC'R 9Tir, 1792,

AGED 17 TEAKS.

M. MEDERIC DUMAS,

NATIF DE BORDEAUX,
HABITANT DU FORT DAUPHIN,

ISI.E ST. DOMINIQUE,
DECEDE A NEWI3URYPORT,

I,E 9rn OF MAK., 1792,

AGE DE 49 ANS.

In 1795, Nicholas Cools Godefroy,
from Castrie in the island of St. Lucia,
in the West Indies, came to Newburj--
port in a vesse.1 commanded by Capt.
John Coombs. He was accompanied
by his youngest son, 'Moise Jacques
Dupree Cooles Godefroy, who was born
in Bordeaux, France, in 1785, and
about twenty negro slaves, house ser-
^ants, and families from his plantation.
The oldest son, Jacques Mane Cools
Godefroy, had previously come to Bal-
timore. This family of exiles com-
menced housekeeping in a house near
the head of Federal street ; but, aged
and infirm, torn from home and friends,
the exhausted fugitive turned his face
to the wall and died, surviving scarcely
a week from the day of his landing.
A will is on record in Salem, which was
proved Dec. 28, 1795, by which the
plantation in the island of St. Lucia
was bequeathed to the eldest son, and
a large sum of money to the youngest,
to whom Capt. Coombs was appointed
guardian, and in whose family he found
a home. The negroes, now free, went
to service in Oldtown, where the jovial
faces, woolly heads and glistening
ivory of the little darkies, and their
frolicsome pranks, attracted much no-
tice. They and their parents are still
remembered by some aged persons.
Owing to a wrong translation of the

will of his father which was written in
French, the lad, Moise Cooles Godefroy,
was defrauded of a portion of his in-
heritance ; the household effects were
sold plate engraved with the family
arms, clothing and linen. Nothing of
this personal property has descended in
the family, with the exception of one
solitary counterpne, made from a
dress of Madam Nicholas Cooles God-
efroy, who had died some years previ-
ous to her husband's exile. In 1810
Jacques Mane Cooles Godefroy, visited
his brother previous to his return to
the plantation in St. Lucia. He pre-
sented Moise with nearly a thousand
dollars to stock his store on State
street, and made a will in his favor,
which was deposited with Bishop
Chevereux in Boston, who was ap-
pointed the executor. He died a
few years after, at his home in St.
Lucia. A short time after, to his
surprise, Moise Cooles Godefroy re-
ceived a notification from Bishop Chev-
eraux, purporting that a priest and a
lawyer had arrived in Boston, bringing
with them a second and later will made
by Jacques Cooles Godefroy shortly
before his decease, by which his estate
was willed to the church. roof was
wanting to controvert this second will,
which the descendants have supposed
forged or obtained from a mind weak-
ened by disease. Sam L. Knapp, esq.
was employed by Moses Cooles Gode-
froy, but nothing was effected, and the
despoiled heir, under the plain English
name of Moses Cole, continued his bus-
iness on State street. He married
Miss Sally Avery from York, Maine,
and reared a large family. Mr. Cole
possessed a fine talent for portrait
painting, which he delighted to culti-
vate. His sitters were counted amongst

188

REMIXISCEXCE S

our most prominent citizens, and many
of his portraits are extant. I have
mentioned that he was an adept in
framing the paintings and wrought
pictures of the young ladies of New-
buryport. On Monroe's visit to this
town, unknown to the president, Mr.
Cole sketched a fine likeness of him
while he was at the dinner table. This
artistic talent descended in his family ;
three of the sons chose art as a profes-
sion. Joseph and Charles, both de-
ceased, were noted painters, and Mr.
Lyman Cole's pictures are well known
in this vicinity. Mr. Moses Cole was
a sufferer by the great fire of 1811,
losing both his dwelling house on Mid-
dle street, and his store on State street.
He died in 1849, aged 65. His widow,
Salh* (Avery) Cole, survived many
years, dying Oct. 23, 1874, at the ad-
vanced age of 92 years.
The Godefroy arms are :

THREE PELICANS' HEAD'S VULXIXG THEMSELVES.

CREST A DEMI SARACEN PPR, HOLDI.VIi IN

THE DEXTER HAND A -LET

FITCHEE A.

The remains of Nicholas Cooles
Godefroy lie with his countrymen, in the
valley oa burying hill, but no stone
marks the grave.

Anthony and Mary Le Breton wore
born in the city of Nantes, France.

They had thirteen children. Stephen
Le Breton their eldest child emigrated
to the West Indies, and settled -in
Guadaloupe.

Pierre Le Breton was born in Nantes,
Oct. 17, 1745, being the youngest of
thirteen children, receiving his name
from his paternal grandfather. When
he was about fifteen years old, he took
French leave of his parents and home,
and went to join his brother Stephen,
of whom he was very fond. His
brother sent him immediately back to
France. As a punishment for this es-
capade, his father placed him an ap-
prentice to a cabinet maker ; here he
learned the use of tools, which ever af-
ter was a source of pleasure to him.
When they thought him sufficiently
punished, his parents consented to his
joining his brother. - At the age 61
twenty he was the owner of a large
plantation and a number of slaves
When about twent}--one he became
very ill, pronounced in a consumption,
and his physicians, for a change of -air,
advised a trip to New England. Capt.
William Noyes, the husband of my
great-aunt Mollie Smith, was at the
island in a fine new ship, and with him
young Le Breton took passage. This
Capt. Noyes had lost one of his hands ;
he was the one so long confined in
Dartmoor prison during the Revolu-
tionary war ; it was his hat that fur-
nished the braid by which my aunt Sa-
rah Smith learned to braid straw.
Capt. Noyes and his passenger became
firm friends, and upon their arrival in
Newburyport, the captain took the
young Frenchman home to his house
on Liberty street, where lie remained
boarding in the family until he entirely
recovered his health. Pierre LeBre-
ton often accompanied Captain and

OF A

189

Mrs. Noyes in their visits to the Smith
homestead on Crane-neck hill. I have
often heard rrry aunt Sarah speak of
his appearance as most striking. A
pale, fair complexion, deep, bine eyes
shaded by long, black lashes, and dark,
chestnut hair waving in curls about his
face and neck. A large garden was
attached to Capt. Noyes' house, and
there Pierre delighted to resort. In an
adjoining garden, belonging to a Mr.
Pearson, the }'oung foreigner often ob-
served a young lady busy among the
flowers ; he soon formed an acquaint-
ance, and became deeply interested in
her. This interest combined with his
friendship for the Noyes family, and
his strong liking for the town of New-
buryport, induced him to dispose of
his plantation in Guadaloupe and set-
lle here. This was done against his
parents' and brother Stephen's advice
and entreaties. Not being acquainted
with business, he had not been long in
the country before he lost all his prop-
erty. This event was such a surprise
that ever after he lived in a state of
expectancy and preparation for a simi-
lar occurrence.

He had now to commence life anew,
and went to his old friend, to whom he
was very strongly attached, for advice.
This turned his attention to navigation.
He sailed with Capt. Noyes until he
became both ship master and owner.
Having secured a competence, again
become a rich man, he built the house
on Middle street, on the corner of Fair,
opposite the Universalist church, with
a shop attached, that in case he should
lose property he might in some measure
be prepared for it. This calamity, so
greatly feared, never occurred. The
great fire of 1811 burned to his house
and there stopped.

Having accumulated a fortune, and
built his house, he determined to marry.
All this time he had entertained an in-
terest in Miss Elisabeth Pearson, and
having ascertained that this affection
was mutual, after great opposition from
her parents on account of his being a
foreigner, they were married in 1776.
Their children were Peter and Elisa-
beth LeBreton. Mrs. LeBreton died,
of typhoid fever, taken from her hus-
band, Dec. 27, 1781, aged thirty-six
3 r ears.

After remaining three }-ears a wid-
ower, Mr. LeBreton married Miss
Elizabeth Sawyer, on the 20th of
March, 1784. They had one child who
died in infancy. At the time of this
marriage, a sister of Elizabeth, Eunice
Sawyer, was taken into and made one
of the family, and on his decease, Mr.
LeBreton bequeathed to her a sufficient
maintenance during her life. This
property Eunice willed back to the
LeBreton family, but, by some inform-
ality in the will, it went to the Sawyer
relatives. Mr. and Mrs. LeBreton
adopted the daughter of her eldest sis-
ter Eunice Couch ; the}* also adopted the
first grandchild, Peter LeBretou, when
he was two }*ears old. Capt LeBre-
ton was a generous, genial gentleman,
the soul of hospitality and good humor.

One morning, Mr. Moses Colman
was called to his door, where he found
a strange woman whose home he failed
to enquire, offering a pig for sale.
She was on horseback, her wares in
pannier baskets. Mr. Colman did not
need the pig but the little fellow looked
so cunning, peeping from the basket,
that the old gentleman, fond of pets,
concluded the bargain, and the small
porker was placed in the pen, where he
became the distinguished sire of the

190

REMESJSCE:N T CES

famous By field breed of swine. This
caused Mr. Colman's pork to be in
great demand. Capt. LeBreton having
purchased a pig for family use, David
Emery, then a lad in his teens, took it
ta the house, where it was carried to
the kitchen to be cut up. Through his
father Colman, David had formed the
acquaintance of Capt. LeBreton, with
whom he was a favorite. One o'clock
came, the dinner bell sounded. A sum-
mons was sent for David ; the youth
hesitated ; he wore only his common
suit under his frock : to dine with Capt.
LeBreton he ought to be dressed in his
Sunday best, but the old gentleman step-
ping into the kitchen, in his most per-
emptory manner ordered David to take
off his frock and follow him. The
bountiful repast over, wine was served
with dessert, and little Peter, then
scarcely able to talk plain, was told to
drink to the guest. The little fellow
bashfully demurred, at which the old
gentleman exclaimed, "Peter, mine
grandson, be a little gentleman, and
diink Monsieur Emery's health directly.
The tiny glass was filled, and little Pe-
ter drank with due etiquette. Mr. Em-
ery was so much amused that he often
related the story.

Capt. Le Breton was exceedingly lib-
eral to his workmen. Every Saturday
night those in his employ received a
piece of meat for their Sunday dinner.
For years the Captain bought his meat
of Mr. Emery. Amongst the steve-
dores was an Irishman by the name of
Murray. The master alwaj's superin-
tended the giving out of the meat to
his men, and in his fuun3 r way he
would say: "Cut dat for Murray, Da-
vid, he 'ave one hard tooth."

This Murray had a wife, a most
worthy woman, who worked for me for

years on Monday, for a quarter of a
dollar and a basket of cold victuals :
and on Saturday she scoured the brass-
es, candlesticks, stairs and floors, did
the day's cleaning, receiving therefor,
with much gratitude, her bundle of ed-
ibles, and the coffee grounds which for
a long period were daily poured into a
pitcher for her use.

Capt. LeBreton's good humored gen-
erosity was often subjected to imposi-
tion. One day he came to the sham-
bles, and with a jovial face and in gaj*
tones, said, "David, yesterday I gave
one leetle bo}~ a pair of shoes ; dis
mornin' half a dozen leetle boys come
shoof, shoof, shoof, after me. What
did it mean ? Wanted shoes, hey ! Too
moosh, too moosh, David, but I shod
the rogues, I shod every garcon, Da-
vid," ending his recital with a hearty
laugh, rubbing his hands together in
great glee.

In 1807, Etienne LeBretagne, Capt.
LeBreton's eldest arid best beloved
brother, Stephen, made him a visit,
and was much pleased with the coun-
try and people, and declared, "if he had
been a 3'ounger man he would remove
himself and family, and finish his days
here with his brother." Two other
brothers visited him, one of whom set-
tled in the city of New Orleans, the
other in some part of New Jersey.

Capt. LeBreton was a Catholic. In
performance of a vow he presented the
First Religious societ}* of Xewburyport
with the pair of tall silver tankards,
used in the sacramental service.

Pierre LeBreton died in Newbury-
port, from gout in the stomach, Febru-
ary "24, 1813, aged 67 years.

Peter LeBreton, the only son of
Capt. LeBreton, married Tabitha Lew-
is of Marblehead, Sept., 1800. Their

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

191

oldest son. Peter, adopted by his grand-
father, at his death received property
independent of his father. Peter Le-
Brcton 3d, married in 1823, Sarah E.,
daughter of Tristram Chase, of the
Chase farm, Meeting-house hill, West
Newbory.

Elisabeth LeBreton, the oldest daugh-
ter, married Henry Johnson in 1825.
This lady died at the age of twenty-
one, leaving an infant ten days old.

Mary Anthony, the second daughter
of Peter LeBreton, jun., named by
her grandfather for his father and
mother, Marie Antoine LeBretagne,
married Henrj* Johnson, May, 1826.

Edmund Lewis LeBreton, the sec-
ond son, married Lucy Oliver, daugh-
ter of Dr. Prescott, September, 1829.

Stephen LeBreton, the third son of
Peter LeBreton, jun., died unmarried,
Nov. 4, 1834.

Caroline Lewis, the third daughter,
married John Stephen Bartlett, July,
1832. John Stephen Bartlett, M. D.,
died in M*arblehead, March 6, 1840:
his widow married Capt. William Ham-
mond of Marblehead, Ma}-, 1842.

The fourth son, George Washington
LeBreton, was shot by an Indian in
Oregon, and died from inflammation,
March G, 1844, aged 32 years.

Charlotte, youngest daughter of Pe-
ter LeBreton, jun., married John James
Coombs, August, 1835.

Elisabeth LeBreton, only daughter
of ('apt. Peter and Elisabeth (Pearson)
LeBreton, was born Nov. 28, 1786.
Her mother died when she was but two
years old. ] ler grandmother and aunts
who lived in the next house, cared for
her until her father's second marriage,
in 1784, to Elisabeth Sawyer, who
made herself beloved, not only to the

father, the children, and the Pearson
family, but to all who knew her.

Elisabeth LeBreton married Captain
David Stickney, in 1802. They had
four children ; Elisabeth LeBreton,
Hannah Lee, Peter LeBreton, and Ma-
ry Thurston Stickney. Capt. Stickney
died February, 1820. The widow
Stickney married the Rev. Henry C.
Wright, then pastor of the society in
first parish in West Newbury, in 1826.

Eunice Couch, the niece adopted by
Captain and Mrs. LeBreton, married
David Rogers. She died in Cincinnati,
aged 30 years.

Mrs. Elisabeth (Saw3'er) LeBreton
died May 4, 1822, aged 74 years.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

The first meeting-house in Newbury
was built on the lower green in Old-
town, but in 1642, a majority of the
population having moved farther up on
the Merrimac, a new house of worship
was erected. This removal caused
much opposition and contention, but in
1642 "there was granted to Mr. James
Noyes, four acres of land upon the hill,
by the little pine swamp, upon which to
set the meeting-house." Of this struc-
ture I have no record, excepting that
the canopy of the pulpit was presented
to the new society in the west precinct,
after the erection of their meeting-
house, the first parish having built a
new sanctuary, in the year 1 700.

I distinctly remember this building,
the spire and high pointed roof being
plainly visible from Crane-neck hill.
It was a square edifice of two stories,
with front and side entrances, the high

192

REMIXTSCEXCES

four-sided roof terminated at the apex
in a dome-shaped belfry, surmounted
by a high, pointed spire, crowned by a
copper weathercock. The principal en-
trance opened into a broad aisle, which
led to the high pulpit, with the sounding-
board above, the deacon's seat beneath,
and the communion table in front. Two
short cross aisles led from the side doors.
(4-alleries ran round three sides of the
house. The -'singing seats" were op- I
posite the pulpit ; the side galleries were j
filled with benches, and a larger part of
the lower floor. Space was appropri-
ated for pews, and permission granted
to about twenty persons to build them.
It was voted, '"that a pew be built for
the minister's wife by the pulpit stairs ;
that Colonel Daniel Pierce esquire
should have the first choice of a pew
and Major Thomas Noyes the second,
and Colonel Daniel Pierce esquire, and
Tristram Coffin esquire, be impowered
to procure a bell of about four hundred
pounds weight."

The inscription on this bell, was "let
us love as brethren, Mathew Bayle^y
fundet 1705." It was ordered "that
this bell be rung at nine o'clock every
night and the da}- of the month be
tolled."

As the belfry was just above the
centre of the ceiling, the bell rope de-
pended therefrom, and the bell-ringer
stood in the broad aisle to perform his
duty.

The Rev. John Woodbridge, the suc-
cessor of Messrs. Parker and Noyes.
died in 1695. The next clerg3'man was
the Rev. John Richardson : his succes-
cessor, the Rev. Christopher Toppan.
who died in 1747 ; he was followed b}-
the Rev. John Tucker ; the last clergy-
man to minister through his pastorate
in the old meeting house wa$ the Rev.

Abraham Moore, a fine speaker and a
man of superior literary attainments ;
he died in 1801, and the Rev. John
Popkin was ordained in 1804. In
1806 a new house was built ; this
structure many of our readers still re-
member. On May 4, Dr. Popkin
preached for the last time in the old
building ; May 6th, it was torn down.

On the 1 6th of June there was a to-
tal eclipse of the sun ; the obscuration
commenced about ten o'clock, and in
half an hour stars were visible ; the
birds flew to, the trees, and the fowl
sought their roosts. On this day the
sills of the new meeting house were
laid, and it was dedicated on the
seventeenth of September. The rais-
ing and dedication were days of jubi-
lee, "in which great crowds thronged to
Oldtown.

By the year 1685, what was termed
the west precinct, or the new town, had
acquired so large a population, that the
inhabitants, being such a distance from
the meeting house, began to consider
the expediency of forming a second
parish, and erecting a house of worship
in a more convenient locality. March
10, a petition was sent to the town of
Newbury, "the humble request of
some of the inhabitants of this town,
doe desire and entreat, that you would
be pleased to grant us your consent,
approbation and assistance in getting
some help in the ministry amongst us,
by reason that we doe live soe remote
from the means, great part of us, that
we cannot with ai\y comfort and con-
venience come to the public worship of
God ; neither can our families be
brought up under the means of grace as
Christians ought to bee. and which is
absolutely necessary unto salvation ;
therefore we will humbly crave your

OF A NONAGEXARIAST.

193

loving compliance with us in this our
request." This petition commenced a
contest which lasted for several years,
which shows that the men of " ye good
old times" were subject to like pas-
sions and prejudices as those of more"
modern days.

In 1688, Joseph Moring bequeathed,
in his will, twenty pounds to the " new
town" in Newbury, to help build a
meeting-house. The next year, 1869,
sixteen persons erected a meeting-house
about thirty feet square, at the plains.
In the February following, the town
appointed a committee of eight per-
sons to confer with the Rev. Mr. Rich-
ardson respecting the propriety of the
west-end people calling a minister. Mr.
Richardson, anxious not to give of-
fence, declined to express his opinion
or give his advice. The committee re-
ported, " that considering the times as
troublesome, and the towne being so
much behind with Mr. Richardson's sal-
ary, the farmers and the neck men be-
ing under great disadvantages upon
many accounts, do desire and expect,
if such a thing be granted, that the}'
should have the same privilege to pro-
vide for themselves, which we think
cannot conduce to peace, therefore de-
sire the new towue to rest satisfied for
the present."

At the town meeting in March, fif-
teen men belonging to the west end,
' w after stating that it was well known
how far they had proceeded as to a
meeting-house, left two propositions
with the town ; one that the town
would agree to support two ministers,
so that one could preach at the west
end meeting-house, or that the town
would consent to have the ministry
amongst them upon their own charge,
and that the town would lovingly agree

upon a dividing line between them so
that they might know what families
may now belong to the west meeting-
house."

The summer following, the inhabi-
tants of the "new towne" began to
consider respecting the calling of Mr. Ed-
ward Tomsonto minister to them in spir-
itual things. This elicited a vote by the
town " against the settlement of Mr.
Tomson or any other minister until ye
church and towne are agreed upon it,
looking upon such a thing as an intru-
sion upon ye church and town." In
October the people of the west end
petitioned the general court, " to be es-
tablished a people by themselves, for
the maintenance of the ministry amongst
them."

In December, the town voted against
this petition being granted, and chose
a committee to present a counter peti-
tion to the general court. In 1 692 the
west end people again made a petition
and proposition about calling a minis-
ter. Dec. 20, the town voted that
the} 7 would call another minister at the
west end. On the 27th, a committee
was chosen ' ' to enquire after a suitable
person to preach at the west end and
to keep schoole." In May, 1693, the
town voted that Mr. John Clark be
called to assist Mr. Richardson at
the west end, and to keep a grammar
school." This vote caused much
dissension, as most of the west
end people felt bound to adhere to Mr.
Tomson. June 15, another petition
was forwarded to the general court, in
which the}- request the governor and
council, " to pity and help them, to ease
them of a heavy burden of travel on
God's day." July 5th, "the town in
their votes for the choice of a minister
for the west end of the towne, in order
25

194

REMINISCENCES

to a full settlement in the work of the min-
istry. and Mr. John Clark was then cho-
sen and not one vote against him." Twen-
ty-five persons of the west end entered
their dissent against calling Mr. Clark,
" for the reason that the new towne
have a minister alread}-." Mr. Clark
declined the call, and Mr. Christopher
Toppan was invited to preach at the
" new towne." Mr. Toppan declined
to settle, but expressing his willingness
to help in the work of the ministry for
a year, the town voted to give Mr.
Toppan forty pounds in money, and
four contributions a year.

Oct. 22d, 1694, " the towne brought
in'theyr votes by papers, fora minister
for the west end of Newbury, and Mr.
Christopher Toppan had sixty-five votes
and Mr. Tomson seventeen. Jan. 1,
1695, the town met and voted ; 'that Pipe-
stave hill near Daniel Jaques' house
shall be the place for the meeting-house,
and those that live nearest to that
place shall pay to the ministry there,
and those that live nearest to the old
meeting-house shall pay there ; the in-
habitants of the west end to choose a
minister for themselves, only Mr. Tom-
son excepted, and the meeting-house
to stand where it do, until the major
part of them see cause to remove it."

Jan. 3d, Tristram Coffin, Henry
Short and Abraham Merrill, divided
the town into two parishes.

June 5th, "Town voted to give Mr.
Christopher Toppan 20 pounds year-
1}- in money, and three hundred pounds
in good country pa}*, so long as he car-
ries on one half of the ministry among
them, and thirty pounds a year so long
as he shall keep a grammar and a
writing school, the scholars to pay as
they did to Mr. John Clark Mr. Top-

pan accepted these proposals July
seventeenth.

Dec. 18th. The town. *'on the re-
quest of the inhabitants of the west
end of the town of Xewbury, grunted
them five acres of land on the east side
of Artichoke river for a pasture for the
ministry, and one acre of land near the
west meeting house, and when the ma-
jor part shall see cause to remove the
said meeting house, the land shall be-
at the disposal of the town to procure
laud for the ministry, near the we>t
meeting house when removed."

Feb. 28th. 1696. A rate was made
for payment of building and furnishing
the west end meeting-house and ministry
house. The expense was twenty-two
pounds and three shillings in money, and
two hundred and eighteen pounds, eigh-
teen shillings and two pence in pay.
This was due from sixty-four persons.
Of this number twenty-four objected to
the continuance of the meeting-house
on the plains, being desirous that it
should be removed farther up to Pipe-
stave hill. These were Benjamin and
Joseph Morse, Thomas, Daniel and
Moses Chase, John senior and John
jr., and Abial Kelley, Mr. Abraham
Annis, Isaac and Joseph Richardson.
Abel Huse, Caleb Moody. Benjamin
Low, Tristram Greenleaf. Daniel Mor-
rison, Edward Woodman. John Hoag,
Hanariah Ordway. Thomas Follansbee,
Lieut. John Emerson, Thomas Wil-
liams, Francis Willet and Samuel Sa-
yer jr., This dissent continued for
years, the subject of strife thereafter
being the site of the west end meeting-
house.

In April the Rev. Mr. Richardson
died, and in September Mr. Christo-
pher Toppan was ordained his succes-
sor. That same year the Rev. Samuel

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

195

Belcher with his family came to the
west precinct. In October, 1698, a
church was gathered and the Rev. Mr.
Belcher was ordained on November
10th. In January, 1706, the precinct
voted ' ' that they either would remove
the meeting-house and build an addi-
tion to it, or else build a new meeting-
house." February 28th, it was voted
' k that ye inhabitants of 3-6 west end
of the town of Newbury will build a
new meeting-house upon Pipestave hill,
fifty-four feet long, and thirty-four feet
broad, within ye space of five years at
ye furthest, and to meet in the old meet-
ing-house five years, and not to force
airy person to pay any money or pay
till three years be expired, and then to
pay one-quarter part yearly until ye
whole be paid." From this vote twen-
ty persons dissented. Captain Hugh
March, Caleb Moody, and sergeant
John Ordway were chosen a committee
to build the new meeting-house, and
the foundation was laid in 1709. In
February the opposition at the plains
petitioned the general court for relief,
showing that only twelve years before
the}' had built a meeting-house, and
those now calling themselves the major-
ity had been since planted in the upper
part of the precinct, yet the majority
had proceeded to levy a tax, and to
employ a collector to take away their
goods for the furtherance of their de-
sign to erect the more remote house ;
that the expense of another building
would be a heavy burthen, necessitat-
ing them to lose the charge to which
they had been put, besides frustrating
the enjoyment of the means of grace
for themselves and their children. If
no other relief offered, they prayed to
be set off, to maintain a minister and
a ministry amongst themselves. This

document was signed by fifty-five per-
sons. eleven Bartlets, six Sawyers,
three Merrills, four Browns, three Bai-
leys, Charles and Joseph Annis, two
Thurstons, two named Rogers, three
Littles, and nineteen others. In the
March town meeting of the next year,
the inhabitants of the precinct voted
''that they accepted of what was al-
ready done, and authorized the major
part of the committee (who were cho-
sen in 1706, February twenty-eighth) to
proceed and finish the meeting-house
according to the time mentioned in
said vote."

On June 2d, a notification from the
general court was served on the town
of Newbury, by some of the west end
petitioners. June 7th, the town chose
Col. Thomas Noyes to act in their be-
half. This gentleman decided that the
major part could not be aggrieved by
putting down the old, or putting up
the new meeting-house ; he concluded
by saying, "the whole of the western
precinct, assemble in a house not above
thirty feet square, and yet rather than
not have their wills they would have
two churches."

This produced a reply from the mi-
nority, in which the}" state that they
" have one hundred and thirty families,
seventy of which do not live two miles
from the old meeting-house." They
confess to a desire to have their wills,
in so far as they are not sparing of
their purses for the propagation of
the gospel for themselves, and partic-
ularly for their children, and if it is
more convenient to obtain this good
end, they had rather have two church-
es and two meeting-houses, and they,
petitioned the court to this end. This
petition was not granted, and it was
resolved in council, that Pipestave hill

196

EEMLNTISCEISrCES

was the most convenient place, and a
committee was appointed to wait upon
the Rev. Mr. Belcher and acquaint him
with the desire of the court, that when
a meeting-house should be erected
there, and convenient dwelling house,
with suitable accommodation of land,
he be content to remove thither.

Determined not to worship in the
meeting-house on Pipestave hill, twen-
ty-seven of the petitioners signed the
following :

" July ye 12th, 1710.

We whose names Are hereto Sub-
scribed doo Agree And oblidge our-
sealves to each other to mayntain the
publick ministry At the old meeting-
house in 3*6 west precinct in Xewbury,
Although we are forsed to pa} T Else-
where what shall be lavid upon us."

On the next day the inhabitants of
the west end held a meeting, and voted
to " observe the direction and resolve
of the general court." On July 17th
the} 7 held another meeting, in which
they voted to ' ' levy a tax of four hun-
dred pounds to defray part of the charg-
es of building a meeting-house, minis-
try house, and so forth, to pay back all
they had taken by distraint, and to con-
firm all that the building committee
chosen in 1706 had done, and gave
them full power to finish."

On the 19th of April, 1711, the pre-
cinct had another meeting, and. as the
time of five years during which they
had determined to meet in the old meet-
ing-house had expired, the majority pro-
ceeded to earn" the remainder of the
vote into execution. A committee of
three was chosen, to dispose of the min-
istry house and land near the old meet-
ing-house, and obtain a house and land
near the ne\ meeting-house at Pipe-
stave hill. It was also voted " to take
the seates and boards and glass out of

3"e old meeting-house to be improved in
the new meeting-house, and also to re-
move the old meeting-house and sett it
up att Pipestave hill to be improved as
a barn for the ministry in convenient
time."

Of course this vote but added fuel to
the flame. The minority firmly resist-
ed every attempt at removal of the
Plains " meeting-house. One night in
the first of the summer, a party came
down from the upper part of the parish,
and in a disorderly and riotous manner
tore down the old meeting-house and
carried it off. The minority*, being as
determined not to submit as the major-
ity were to govern, immediately began
the erection of another house of wor-
ship. To frustrate this undertaking,
in July a committee of six persons
petitioned the general court to stay the
proceedings. The court directed that
the ' k ra}'sing of the meeting-house be
delayed until there be a hearing of the
matter before the court."

Xo attention was paid, by the mi-
nority, to this order. This caused
another petition against them, in which
it was stated that the minority had
"raised and part covered a meeting-
house, and set it near the dividing line,
notwithstanding the advice and direc-
tion of the court."

The court immediate!}' ordered "that
Samuel Bartlet, John Ordway, Deacon
Joshua Brown, Joshua Bailey. Skipper
Lunt and Penuel Titcomb, be anew
served by the sheriff with a process
and order of this court, strictly forbid-
ding them and their associates proceed-
ing in the work of their intended meet-
ing-house, and that said persons be
summoned to attend the fall session of
the court."

On the 23d of October, 1711, the

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

197

minority again petitioned the court for
leave to go on with their meeting-
house. "That the farthermost of forty
families, and about thirty more of our
neighbors are not above one and a half
miles from the meeting-house we are
about to erect, and that we deem it a
duty to maintain the Rev. Mr. Belcher,
(for whom we have a peculiar respect) ,
until he may be orderly dismist."
They also requested the court ' ' to set
them off as a precinct, making Arti-
choke river the dividing line, as there
are now ninety-six families above Arti-
choke river." The court considered
that there was no present necessity for
this new precinct and church, and or-
dered that the building of the house be
no further proceeded with. No regard
being paid to this order, the court sent an
express to forbid the work. Several
gentlemen went to Boston to show
their grievances, but obtained no relief;
there they met a Mr. John Bridger of
Portsmouth. This gentleman was "sur-
veyor of the king's woods," and a
churchman. He informed the New-
bury party that the Church of England
would protect them if they would put
themselves under its control. He vis-
ited Newbury, and told the "plains"
people that if they would convert their
intended meeting-house into a church,
he would ensure them the protection of
the governor.

Some were somewhat acquainted with
the church ; after the perusal of several
Episcopal books, a consent was given,
and the Rev. Henry Harris, who had
been sent from England to minister at
King's Chapel, Boston, came and
preached to them. This gentlemen
was the father of Mr. Benjamin Harris
for whom Harris street is named. At
the time of his coming, when a ship ar-

rived from England it was customary
for persons expecting friends to go to the
wharf to meet them on their landing.
Amongst the throng assembled on this
occasion was a young lady, whose
glance riveted that of the handsome
missionary ere the ship reached the
landing. This "love at first sight"
was soon followed by the marriage of
the j-outhful pair.

Mr. Harris sent a Mr. Lampton, the
chaplain of a station ship, to preach at
the Plains. Some went to the meeting
at Pipestave hill, but the majority em-
braced the doctrines of the Church of
England. Thus the Episcopal society
was formed, and the church completed,
under the designation of Queen Ann's
Chapel. In May, 1715, the Rev. Hen-
ry Lucas, of London, was appointed
their rector. The bishop of London
presented a bell to the society. This
bell afterwards became memorable as
an object of contention between the so-
ciety at Belleville and that of St. Paul's.
A large silver christening basin was
presented by Capt. Richard Brown, a
native of England, who came to New-
buryport from the West Indies. He
married a Miss Hudson. Capt. Daniel
Marquand married his widow, from
whom are the descendants of that
name and one family of Jenkins. He
was interred in the cemetery on the
Plains. The communion service con-
sisted of a flagon, inscribed: "The
gift of K. William and Q. Mary to the
Rev. Samuel Myles, for the use of their
Majesties' Chappell in New England,
1694," and a chalice with the inscrip-
tion : " Ex dono Johannis Mills 1693."
This plate, in good preservation, is now
in use at St. Paul's church. In 1720
Mr. Lucas died, and the Rev. Matthias
Plant, a graduate of Jesus College,

198

REMINISCENCES

Cambridge, England, succeeded in the
rectorship.

As early as 1725, the church people
dwelling at the water side formed the
idea of building a new church, but the
' Plains " people being unwilling to
join them, nothing was done until 1738.
Then, the Rev. Mr. Plant and Joseph
Atkins, esq., each having offered to
present fifty pounds towards building a
new church at the " Port," the founda-
tion of one was laid at the head of
Queen, now Market street. The church
was not completed until 1740. It was
arranged that Mr. Plant should officiate
at both churches. This caused some
difficult}*, which was happily settled.
In 1751 Mr. Edward Bass was chosen
to assist Mr. Plant, who died in 1753.
For a while a monthly service was held
in Queen Ann's Chapel, but. as time
passed, this gradually became discon-
tinued, and the building fell into deca}%

The Rev. Edward Bass, though ad-
vanced to the bishopric of Massachu-
setts, still continued to officiate at St.
Paul's church. He died the 10th of
September, 1803, and the Rev. James
Morse was settled the November fol-
lowing.

In 1800 the present church was built.
I have a recollection of the old build-
ing, which was small and painted light
yellow. This church had been fur-
nished with an organ, the first in the
town. This organ is a noted instru-
ment, being the oldest in America. It
was built by J. Preston, in York. Eng-
land. Having been detained in his
workshop, it escaped destruction at the
time of the pious raid upon organs in
the churches b}' Cromwell's soldiers.
At the commencement of the last cen-
tury it was brought to Boston by
Thomas Brattle, and presented to

King's Chapel in that city, but so strong
was the feeling in New England against
anything savoring of popery that it re-
mained a long time in the packing case
in the porch. At length, in 1714. it
was set up, and used for forty years.
when it was bought by the societ}- of
St. Paul's. In that church it sent forth
its melody for more than two genera-
tions. Some years since, a larger or-
gan having been procured, the venera-
ble relic was purchased by the society
of St. John's church, in Portsmouth.
N. H. When a girl, my mother at-
tended St. Paul's to hear the novel in-
strument. She was highly delighted
with the music and much impressed by
the service, and the grandeur of the
Daltons, Atkins. Cutlers. Hoopers,
Jacksons, John Tracy's, and other fam-
ilies of ton who worshipped there.

The corner-stone of the present
church was laid with masonic ceremo-
nies. The altar, aisles and gallery are
as when built, but the first pews were
roomy compartments, with high, pan-
eled sides. The pulpit was peculiarly
graceful, rising from a pillar and spread-
ing like a wineglass. Above it hung a
sounding-board, equally elegant in de-
sign. Before the reading desk was a
lower one for the clerk. Either side of
the entrance to the broad aisle were
two small pews, with high, ornamental
partitions ; from the front corners of
each to the right and left, uprose 'two
tall, brightly-painted poles, terminating
at the top by gilded balls. These pews
were the seats for the church wardens,
and the rods were the warden's poles,
which in those days played no unim-
portant part in the ceremonies of the
service, being borne in state by the
wardens, as, with majestic step, they
preceded the bishop up the broad

OF A

199

aisle upon his entrance into the
church. They also did good service
in the discipline of the more j-outh-
ful worshippers the fear of a rap
on the pate from these emblazoned
poles being inculcated with becoming
seriousness by the matrons of the so-
ciety, as they marshalled their bright,
frolicsome troops of boys and girls
across the portals of the sacred edifice.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

The Rev. Samuel Belcher having be-
come aged and infirm, returned to Ips-
wich, his native place, where he died
March 12th, 1715, universally mourned
and esteemed.

The Rev. John Tufts was ordained
over the society at Pipestave hill in
1714. Mr. Tufts possessed a fine taste,
and, for those days, superior skill in
music. To improve the singing in his
choir and those of other churches, the
3'ear after his settlement he published a
small work on music, which was sold
for sixpence a copy or five shillings per
dozen. Few tunes were then used
York, Hackne}*, St. Mary's, Windsor,
and Martyrs, were the principal. In
most congregations the singing was en-
tirely b} T rote, which was considered
papistical by the more rigid ; and Mr.
Tuft's attempt to improve sacred music
was a daring innovation that for a time
met much opposition.

In January, 1716, the church in the
west precinct kept a day of humiliation
and prayer, to petition that God would
' ' prevent the spread of errors in the
place, especially the error of quakers."
The causes that had driven some into

episcopacy had led others to join the
"Friends." The sons of Mr. John
Hoag having embraced the doctrines of
that sect, others became interested
and meetings were held at private
houses. The first of these gatherings
was at the dwelling of Mr. Samuel
Sa}*er. A societj" was formed, which,
in the summer of 1744, erected a meet-
ing-house on a site nearly opposite the
present Belleville church.

On Feb. 26th, 1738, a council was
called, in the west parish, to consider
' ' the distressed state and condition of
ye second church of Christ in Newbury,
by reason of the reverend pastor, Mr.
John Tufts, being charged by a woman,
or women, of his indecent carriage,
also of his abusive and unchristian be-
havior towards them at several times,
and so forth."

This council consisted of ten clergy-
men and twenty delegates. Mr. Tufts
refused to unite with the council and
opposed the swearing of witnesses, and
immediately asked his dismission, which
was granted, the church refusing to
give him a recommendation elsewhere .
He was succeeded by Thomas Barnard,
who was dismissed in 1751. The Rev.
Moses Hale was ordained the same
year. He married Mehitable Dummer,
and was the only pastor, amongst the
long list of those that have been or-
dained over this society, who spent his
life among his people. He died in
1779.

The meeting-house on Pipestave hill
had become somewhat dilapidated ; by
the setting off of the fourth parish, it
was no longer in a central locality ;
then, many objected to climbing the
long hill. As expensive repairs were
necessary, it was proposed to move the
building a quarter of a mile below on

200

REMINISCENCES

the main road, at the corner of the one
leading to the river. This raised a
storm of objections, but finally, in 1758,
the seventh year of Mr. Hale's pas-
torate, the plan was effected. The
house, which was a good-sized struc-
ture, without a tower, was repaired and
remodeled. The parsonage, which lay
below on Pipestave hill, was retained
by the parish for some years. It is
still standing in good preservation.

The Rev. True Kimball was settled
in 1782, and dismissed in 1797. His
successor, the Rev. Samuel Tomb,
was ordained the next year. He was
dismissed in 1808, the same year that
Dr. Woods left the fourth parish for
the seminaiy at Andover. Great scan-
dal had been raised in the "parish re-
specting Parson Tomb's ill treatment
of a little girl, bound as a servant in
his family. It was alleged that, being
unmercifully whipped for every slight
offence, to screen herself, the child be-
came an adept at deceit. To punish
her for lying, the minister, it was said,
tied her tongue to her great toe. Such
discontent was aroused that the rever-
end gentleman asked a dismission,
which was granted, though many of the
society discredited the stories about
him. My father would not accept Dr.
Woods' ministry ; after the Slade meet-
ing-house at Byfield was closed he at-
tended service at the lower parish.

After Mr. Tomb's departure the
pulpit was for a time supplied by a Mr.
Hull. A part of the society, in which
my father was included, were much
pleased with Parson Hull's preaching,
declaring it to be good Arminian doc-
trine, but the more Calviuistic portion.
who were a majorit}-, pronounced it
tame and unsound. Old Mr. Ben.
Poore (father of Dr. Poore) in his most

emphatic manner, declared, " His name
is Hull and he was hull indeed." In
consequence Mr. Hull did not receive a
a call, and the Rev. Ebenezer Hubbard
was ordained in May, 1809. Persons
at that time were assessed for the sup-
port of the gospel according to their
property. My father had paid the
3'ear's tax at the lower parish. To-
wards spring, to his surprise, the col-
lector of the upper parish also present-
ed a bill. Father produced the one he
had paid, but the collector, Mr. Baile}-,
said : k ; The law required every one to
pay in his own parish unless they at-
tended on the worship of a different
sect. As the lower paiish was Congre-
gationalist, as well as the upper, he
must pay a tax to the society in the
parish where he resided." Father re-
fused to comply with the demand, and
Mr. Bailey took two of our best cows
from the barnyard and drove them
down the lane. Mother cried, but
father laughed and sat down to dinner.
When the meal was over we saw the
cows standing b}* the cow 4 yard bars,
and nothing more was done about the
tax bill. Uncle Enoch Little invited
father to take a seat in his pew at the
Baptist meeting-house in Xew Rowley,
which he did. As, after Parson Woods
left, the services in our parish were ir-
regular, mother or some of the family
generally accompanied him. After a
while it became the settled place of
worship, and, in later years, my mother
united with that church.

As the service in Queen Ann's Chap-
el became gradually discontinued, a
new Cougregationalist society was
formed in that quarter. For a time,
with the permission of the Episcopal
society, they occupied the old chapel,
but after a while a small, plain build

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

201

ing was put up, a little above Queen
Ann's, and on Sept. 1, 1762, the Eev.
Oliver Noble was ordained. Father
Noble, as he was commonly styled, was
a somewhat eccentric character. With
a quick eye and read}' wit at barter and
sale, he could turn an honest penny
with any one ; and, as his congregation
was small, and it was not easy to raise
even the limited stipend to which he
was entitled, it was convenient to eke
out a living \)\ his own exertions.
Some few years after his settlement his
wife died, and the bereaved husband
preached her funeral sermon, which he
had printed. Stuffing his saddle bags,
he mounted his old horse, known as
"Noble's frame," and proceeded to
peddle his sermon over the country.
My father, then a lad, in after years
used to give a laughable description of
his visit at Crane-neck. He rode
rode up one warm afternoon, hab-
ited in a long, flowing, black flannel
gown, and, with tears and piteous sighs,
told his grief, ending by the presenta-
tion of the sermon, which was pur-
chased, with sympathetic condolence,
while, at the same time, warning glanc-
es were threateningly cast to Jim and
the other bo}-s and girls who were
snickering in the background.

At the time of the depreciation of
the continental money, two gentlemen
in Bradford having obtained an inkling
of the probable state of the market,
held a consultation respecting the best
method of ridding themselves of a
quantity of bills which the c y held. It
was suggested b}' one, that they should
ride down to Father Noble's, and trade
off the currency for some land that
the clergyman had for sale. "Grass-
hopper plains" was warm, diy land,
very suitable for early crops, and es-

pecially good for corn. This plan was
carried into effect. The Parson re-
ceived his visitors with great urbanity ;
he was not the man however to be be-
hindhand in knowledge respecting pub-
lic events, or business in general, and
the trick which the gentlemen inten-
ded to play, was instantly divined.
Though the land on the plains had all
the good qualities the Bradford man
had mentioned, ever} y one at all con-
versant with that locality knows that
there are several acres back from the
river consisting of sandy knolls, a
somewhat singular conformation, which
are almost worthless, would scarcely
subsist a small number of the insects
from which the plains derive their
name. The Parson at that time had
quite a lot of this land which he was
desirous to put into a more profitable
investment ; he was therefore willing to
bargain, not too eager, but to accom-
modate the gentlemen, after a time the
purchase was eifected. Father Noble,
shaking with inward chuckles, received
the condemned bills, which before the
news of their loss of value became
general he disposed of very satisfac-
torily. At the time of the purchase
the land was covered with snow, and
the gentlemen anxious to get rid of the
notes, took but a cursory look, and had
not been particular in enquiries respect-
ing it. As the spring advanced some-
how the story of the sale became bruit-
ed about, and the would be biters
were informed that the}- had been un-
mercifully bitten. Accordingly they
rode down to take a survey of the
land. Scarcely liking the lay of it
they went with their protest to the
Parson. Father Noble was all fair
and square. "He should be sorry to
do anything wrong, he was to exchange
26

202

REMINISCENCES

the next Sunday with Parson Dutch :
he would remain in Bradford over
night, and Monday morning the gentle-
men might call upon him and talk the
matter over " Accordingly, on Sun-
day Parson Noble appeared in the pul-
pit of the Bradford meeting-house.
The morning service passed as usual,
but in the afternoon the congregation
were favored by a specimen of pulpit
eloquence which caused a universal sen-
sation. The house was crowded, and
knowing what was pending, an unusual
expectancy was felt. The psalms and
prayer over, the preacher with peculiar
emphasis named his text : ' k I have
bought a piece of ground, and I must
needs go to see it." To see it was
the pith of the discourse, which was so
apt, and the would be deceit of the
complainants was so deftly shown, that
they turned all colors and writhed in
their pews, while the rest of the audi-
ence had much ado to preserve the de-
corum proper for " Sabba' day." The
next morning the two gentlemen rode
over to the parsonage. As was cus-
tomary, Parson Dutch produced the
liquor case, sugar, hot water, pipes and
tobacco. The quartette drank healths,
smoked, conversed upon the weather,
the crops, and the state of the country,
but not a lisp was made respecting the
land sale. Towards noon Father No-
ble in his most genial manner, with fer-
vent wishes for the temporal and spirit-
ual welfare of his friends, bade them
good morning, and wended his w&y
down the main road, in -high esteem
with himself and his grasshopper land
speculation.

A man like the Rev. Oliver Noble
could not be expected to remain in a
small parish like that at the Plains,
neither was it probable that as a spirit-

ual guide he gave universal satisfaction.
He resigned his charge April 7, 1784.
Afterwards he was settled in New Cas-
tle. N. H., where he died in 1792, aged
fifty-six.

After his departure, preaching was
for a time held irregularly in " Noble's
meeting-house," but at length was
wholly discontinued, and the old build-
ing fell into decay ; finally, one stormy
winter night it blew down.

In 1807 a new society was formed in
that locality, a new meeting-house erect-
ed on High street, and the Rev. James
Miltimore was settled in April. 1808.

In 1702 the parish, afterwards called
Byfield, was incorporated. This was
taken from the towns of Rowley and
Newbury, and at first was designated
Rowlbury. Two years later it was
named Byfield in honor of Judge Na-
thaniel Byfield. The first pastor of
the new parish was the Rev. Moses
Hale ; he was succeeded by the Rev.
Moses Parsons, who died in 1783. The
Rev. Elijah Parish was ordained in
1787.

The pastorate of the Rev. Mr. Par-
sons was memorable for a contest be-
tween the clergyman and one of the
church officers, Deacon Benjamin Col-
man, on the subject of slavery. At that
time nearly every family owned one or
more negro slaves. My great-grandfath-
er Noyes had a man named Primus, of
whom the grandchildren were especially
fond. He was a church member and
very much respected. As Dea. Noyes'
favorite servant, Primus considered
himself somewhat of an important per-
sonage, and always comported himself
with suitable dignity. My great-grand-
father Smith owned a black maid ;
great-grand sir Little a man ; this couple
were married. The husband usually

OP A NONAGENARIAN.

203

came to great-grandfather Smith's to
sleep, but on very pleasant evenings
the wife would go over to great-grand-
sir Little's to visit her husband. The
agreement at their marriage, between
their owners, had been, if there were
children to divide them. Two or three
were born, but the}' were swept away
with those of their masters, by the
throat distemper, the year it made such
ravage in New England.

As Violet, the Rev. Mr. Parsons's
woman, like most head servants in a
large family, literally "ruled the
roast," being a perfect autocrat in the
kitchen, and a presiding genius in every
department of the household, holding
an affectionate but unquestioned sway
over the bevy of bright, roguish boys
that were reared in the parsonage, the
zealous deacon could not have founded
his complaint upon any but conscien-
tious scruples. The principle of slave-
ry was the sin against which he con-
tended, thus unwittingly becoming pio-
neer in a cause which has produced
such momentous results. Church meet-
ing after church meeting was held.
The deacon was suspended for indecor-
ous language respecting his pastor, and
the discussion continued until after the
clergyman's decease, when at a church
meeting on the 26th of October, 1785,
Deacon Colman, after having acknowl-
edged, "that in his treatment of the
Kev. Moses Parsons, the late worthy
pastor of the church, he urged his ar-
guments against the slaver}' of the Af-
ricans with vehemence and asperity,
without showing a due concern for his
character and usefulness as an elder,
or the peace and edicfiation of the
church," he was restored to the church
and the deacouship.

In 1762 an academy building was

erected, and a committee chosen in By-
field parish to appoint a grammar school
master, according to the will of Gov.
Dummer. The academy was opened
on Monday, Feb. 27, 1763. The Rev.
Moses Parsons preached a sermon on
the occasion from the text, " The
liberal soul deviseth liberal things."
The first preceptor, as previously sta-
ted, was Mr. Samuel Moody. The
school, by the Governor's will, was
made free to the boys of the parish ;
those from abroad paid the usual tuition.
This academy immediately took rank
with the first in the country a repu-
tation which has been ably sustained.

April 27, 1778, the inhabitants of
Byfield were startled by a phenomenon
usually termed the " Flying Giant."
The following description is from the
diary of Deacon Daniel Chute :

"Yesterday, being the Lord's day,
the first Sunday after Easter, about
five of the clock in the p. m., a most
terrible, and as most men do conceive
supernatural thing took place. A form
as of a giant, I suppose rather under
than over twenty feet high, walked
through the air from somewhere nigh
the Governor's school, where it was
first spied by some boys, till it past
the meeting-house, where Mr. Whit-
tain, who was driving home his cows,
saw it, as well as the cows also, which
ran violently bellowing. Sundry on
the whole road from the meeting-house
to Deacon Scarles' house, saw and
heard it, till it vanished from sight nigh
Hunslow's hill, as Deacon Searles saw.
It strode so fast as a good horse might
gallop, and two or three feet above the
ground, and what more than all we ad-
mired, it went through walls and fences
as one goes through water, yet were
the}' not broken or overthrown. It
was black, as it might be dressed in
cloth indeed, yet were we so terrified
that none observed what manner if at
all it was habited. It made continu-

204

REMINISCENCES

ally a tending scream, ' hoo, hoo,' so
that some women fainted."

The majority of the people, the Rev.
Moses Parsons included, believed this
spectre to be the devil taking a walk to
oversee his mundane affairs. Deacon
Benjamin Colman published an ac-
count of this occurrence in the Essex
Journal and New Hampshire Packet.
This was in the midst of his controver-
sy with Mr. Parsons on the slavery
question, and he attributed the diabol-
ical visitation to the heinous sin of
slave-holding by the pastor of the par-
ish, followed by quaint theological spec-
ulations, in the deacon's strong and
fearless style.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

In 1 725 the Third parish in Newbury
erected a meeting-house at the water
side, fronting on Fish street. Many
entertained serious doubts of the desir-
ability of this church. Mr. William
Moody, writing to his brother, Judge
Sewell in Boston, says: "Our people
at towne are going to build another
meeting-house, but intend to set it so
nigh to Mr. Toppan's, that I fear it
will make great contention."

The new house was dedicated the
20th of June; the Rev. John Tufts
preached the sermon. On January 19,
1726, the Rev. John Lowell was or-
dained, the sermon was by the Rev.
Thomas Foxcroft of Boston.

The Lowles or Lowells are a very
ancient family, dating back to the
reign of Richard the Second. Mr. Per-
cival Lowle, born in Yardley county,
"Worcester, a merchant of Bristol, Eng-

land, in 1639, with his two sons, John
and Richard, came to Newbury, where
John married his last wife, Naomi Syl-
vester ; their youngest son, Ebenezer.
went to Boston and became a mer-
chant : he married Elisabeth Shale :
their oldest son, the Rev. John Lowell.
was born in Boston, March 14, 1704 ;
Dec. 23, 1725, he married Sarah Champ-
ney. After his ordination, Parson
Lowell commenced housekeeping on
Greenleaf's lane, now State street.
After the clergyman's decease, the es-
tate having been purchased by Mr. Na-
thaniel Tracy for the site of a new
mansion, the house was moved to Tem-
ple street. Two sons were born to the
young couple ; one died in infancj*, the
other, the distinguished Judge Lowell,
and his noted descendants, have a world
wide reputation.

The posterity of the other children
of John and Richard Lowle are still
numerous within the precincts of Old
Newbury and the towns adjacent, prom-
inent and respected citizens, while oth-
ers of equal worth are settled in differ-
ent sections of the country.

Both Parson and Madam Lowell
were assiduous in advancing the spirit-
ual and intellectual welfare of the par-
ish.

Notwithstanding the expense of build-
ing a new meeting-house, the parish
duplicated the town's appropriation for
educational purposes, and in 1731 hired
Mr. John Woodbridge to teach Latin
to the youth of the parish, at sixt}-
pounds a year ; scholars out of the
parish were to pay fourpeuce or six
cents a week.

At that period the minister's lady
was preeminently the head of feminine
society. Her position was much more
marked, and her duties far more on-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

205

erous than at present. As chief lady
in the parish, and mistress of a house-
hold distinguished for hospitality, Mad-
am Lowell won encomiums from old
and 3'oung, rich and poor. Possessing
tact, quick perception, and decision of
character, united to great skill and no-
tability in domestic affairs, with rare
culture and accomplishments for those
days, her precept and example was well
calculated to raise the standard of fe-
male character in her husband's parish.
My great-grandfather Johnson and his
wife held Parson and Madam Lowell in
the most affectionate esteem and rever-
ence. Called to the ministry a few
years later than Mr. Lowell, Mr. John-
son often spoke of the interest mani-
fested and the assistance rendered him
by his pastor while he was pursuing
his studies. Madam Johnson, the
daughter of Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet,
though 3'ounger, was a dear friend of
Madam Lowell. I have frequently
heard my grandmother Little speak of
the gratitude her mother often ex-
pressed for Madam Lowell's advice
and s} T mpathy, when, young and inex-
perienced, she assumed the responsible
position of a clergyman's wife. Mad-
am Lowell died in 1756 ; my great grand-
father was one of the pall bearers. In
those days it was customary at the
funeral of persons of note, to present
in addition to the usual crape bands
and silk gloves, a gold ring as a memo-
rial of the departed. My grandfather's
mourning ring descended to me. It is
a thick, plain ring of the old fashioned
yellow gold ; on the outside is engraved
the then usual insignia of death, a skull
and cross bone ; within is inscribed :
"Sarah Lowell ob. 28 of June, 1756,
JE. 52." The Rev. John Tucker was
also a pall bearer, and a similar ring

has been preserved by his descend-
ants.

Parson Lowell married as a second
wife, Elisabeth, widow of the Rev.
William A. Whipple, of Hampton
Falls. Mr. Lowell died 15th of May
1767, in his 64th year. His loss was
keenly felt by the bereaved parish.
The Rev. John Tucker in the sermon
preached at the funeral, says of him,
' ' He was endowed with good natural
powers, which he improved by study,
under the advantages of a liberal ed-
ucation. He was not only acquainted
with those polite arts, and sciences,
which distinguished him as a scholar
and a gentleman, but was well furnish-
ed with that kind of knowledge, which
was requisite to forming his character,
and enabling him while young, to ap-
pear with advantage as a minister of
the gospel. In his domestic and social
connections and behavior ; in his pri-
vate conversation, both as a Christian
and a minister, he maintained a good
reputation. He was a lover of good
men though of different denominations
and differing sentiments, and much
given to hospitality."

Over the fire-place in the dining
room of Parson Lowell's residence was
a painted panel representing a group
of clergymen seated around a table, on
which were a punch bowl and tobacco
dish. Above this he had inscribed in
Latin the motto "In essentials, unit}' ;
in non-essentials liberty, in all things
charit} T ."

206

REMENTSCEXCES

The arms of Lowle, Somersetshire
and Yard ley, are :

SA, A HAND COUPED AT THE WRIST, GRASPING THREE
DARTS, ONE IN PALE AW TWO IN SALTD3E AZ.
CREST A STAG'S HEAD EMBOSSED OR, BE-
TWEEN THE ALTIRES A PHEON AZ.

Two candidates supplied the pulpit
of the Third church for several months,
the Rev.. Christopher B. Marsh of Bos-
ton and Thomas Carey of Charlestown.
Both of these young gentlemen were
graduates of Harvard, but Mr. Marsh
had embraced more rigid in the par-
lance of the time, " Hopkinsian" views
while Mr. Carey followed in the
footsteps of the fathers. Mr. Carey,
having received the votes of two thirds
of the parish, was ordained on the llth
of May, 1768. The other third amic-
ably separated from the Third parish,
receiving their share of the church
plate, and formed a new society. They
erected a meeting-house on Titcomb
street, and the Rev. Mr. Marsh was
ordained the 19th of October, 1768.
He died in 1773, and was succeeded
by the Rev. Samuel Spring in 1777.

Parson Care}' was stricken with pal-
sy after the morning service on Sunday,
March 9, 1788, and a colleague was
appointed. The Rev. John Andrews,
born at Hiugharn, March 3, 1764 ;

graduated at Harvard in 1786 ; mar-
ried, Sept. 8, 1788, Margaret, oldest
daughter of Rev. Prof. Edward and
Margaret Wigglesworth ; was ordained
over the First society, Newburyport.
Dec. 10, 1788 ; received the degree of
D. D. at Harvard College in 1824 ; re-
signed his pastoral charge May 1, 1830.
He died in August, 1845.

Through the preaching of Whitefield
and the influence of the ' ' great awak-
ening." several persons became dissatis-
fied with the doctrines in which they had
been reared. These ''new schemers"
were vehemently opposed by Mr. Top-
pan, and as firmly by Mr. Lowell, both
denouncing their meetings as ' 'irregular
and disorderly." Rev. John Tucker
having been settled colleague with Mr.
Toppan, the opposition strengthened,
and in 1743 the "Separatists" held
their first public assembly in a barn
near the upper green, in Oldtown. A
small house of worship was soon after
erected on Norfolk, now High street,
just below Federal street, Mr. Joseph
Adams, a young graduate of Harvard
University, officiating as minister. The
"Separatists" having anathematized
the parent church as "Old Dagon,"
in retaliation the new one received the
soubriquet of " Young Dagon." The
new house, which was never entirely
finished, blew down in a severe thun-
derstorm, a catastrophe that brought
exceeding satisfaction to the opposition,
who piously regarded it as a just judg-
ment sent by the indignant hand of an
outraged Deity.

On January 3, 1746, nineteen per-
sons withdrew from the First church
and formed a new church. Thirty-
eight, three years previous, had with-
drawn from communion with the Third
church. As their petition for disrnis-

OF A

207

sion from that church and a recom-
mendation to the new church was de-
.nied, they were admitted to that body
without a recommendation. On the
22d of the same month, acting on the
advice of Whitefield, the " Separatists"
extended a call to the Rev. Jonathan
Parsons to become their pastor. This
invitation was accepted, and the instal-
lation took place on the 19th of March.
This church, not being yet united to
a Presbytery, was styled "Indepen-
dent." The installation services were
conducted entirely by the people 'and
the pastor-elect. Having mutually
pledged themselves to support each
other in the work of the gospel, Mr.
Parsons offered prayer and preached a
sermon. On the 7th of April the or-
ganization of the church was completed
by the choice of six ruling elders, and
the September following it united with
the Presbytery of Boston. Much
trouble arose respecting the assessment
of taxes, as the -first and third parishes
insisted upon the right to tax the se-
ceders. An appeal] was made by the
Presbyterians to Gov. Shirley, and va-
rious other methods used, for years, to
obtain redress, but without effect, until
the different societies became distinct.
corporations, which act was passed
Feb. 22, 1794. The Presbyterian so-
ciety erected the church on Federal
street in 1756. On Sunday morning,
Sept. 30, 1770, George Whitefield died,
at the residence of Rev. Jonathan Par-
sons, and his remains were interred un-
der the pulpit of that church. Mr. Par-
sons died in 1776, and the Rev. John
Murray was ordained in 1781. He
died in 1793, and was succeeded by the
Rev. Daniel Dana, Nov. 19, 1794.

January 28, 1764, that part of New-
bury now called Newburyport was in-

corporated as a separate town, and the
Third church of Newbury became the
First of Newburyport. As the old
meeting-house on Fish street had be-
come time-worn, and too small to ac-
commodate the large congregation, in
1801 the church on Pleasant street was
erected. This edifice, built by Daniel
Spofford and Amos Palmer, was the
most splendid in the vicinity, and a
model of architectural beauty. Its
erection created a great sensation.
The Rev. Mr. Carey was able to preach
the last sermon in the old house, which
was on Sept. 27th. This sermon
showed that, though weak in body, the
clergyman's mind was wholly unim-
paired.

The next morning a vast crowd as-
sembled to witness the demolition of
' ' ye ancient meeting-'us." I have often
heard David Emery, then a lad of six-
teen, and my cousin, Sophronia Pea-
bod}*, describe the scene. The sup-
ports, excepting at one corner, having
been removed, a hawser was placed
around the post, and a band of sailors,
with " a long pull, a strong pull, and a
pull all together," brought the large
building to the ground, amidst clouds
of dust and the huzzas of the multi-
tude. Gen. Peabody entertained the
ladies who had gathered in the cham-
bers of his store with wines and
cordials from the cellar, and my cousin,
then a child, thought pulling down
meeting-houses a delightful event,
which she wished might happen every
day.

The Third church in Newbury from
the first was progressive. In 1750
they voted, nemine contradicente, that
"the scriptures be read in publick on
the Lord's day." Reading from the
Bible in the pulpit was not customarv

208

REMINISCENCES

amongst the first congregations. I
never remember hearing a chapter read
until Parson Woods was ordained,
and he only flid so occasionally. In
1769 the church at Oldtown voted to
introduce the Scriptures at public wor-
ship. When I first went to meeting,
Watts' psalms and hymns were in use
and they had been generall}' adopted
by -the churches.

In 1794 an organ was placed in the
First church in Newbur}*port. It was,
for those days, a large and handsome
instrument. Round the top of the
pipes were festoons of crimson silk ;
above them, in large gold letters, was
the motto, " Praise Him with Organs."
This remarkable innovation greatly
shocked the more rigid, and the new
instrument became the chief topic of
conversation in town and country, in
the commercial mart, and by the do-
mestic hearth. It was denominated a
"papistical device a popish fiddle."
Much was said about the " tooting
tub," and ; sarving the Divil on an
orgin," while the Rev. Samuel Spring
discoursed most disdainfully respecting
" our neighbor's box of whistles."
Notwithstanding the opposition, the or-
gan retained its place, sending forth
melody Sunday after Sunday, in the
old meeting-house, and. with the bell
and weathercock, was transferred to
the new church. The interior of this
building has received but little altera-
tions. The front gallery pews were
square, and when first erected the pul-
pit was higher than now, and sur-
mounted by the sounding-board, then
considered necessaiy for a speaker.
This pulpit was reached by stairs lead-
ing from the back porch, and the plat-
form beneath it was railed off like an
altar ; two gates opened into this com-

partment, to the right and left ; with-
in, in front, was the communion table,
behind it stood three large arm chairs.
with crimson seats. The pulpit cush-
ion was of crimson velvet. From the
centre of the ceiling depended a large
glass chandelier for wax candles. It is
a thousand pities this had not been
preserved, as " a thing of beauty is a
joy forever."

In those da} r s evening services were
rare events. When Dr. Parish was or-
dained, the parish in common with ev-
ery other was so much divided on doc-
trinal points, that much vexation and
dela}- occurred. It was not until
the evening of the third day after the
council had been convened that the or-
dination services took place. The par-
ish ever after celebrated the anniver-
sary of his ordination by an evening
meeting. On one occasion I accompa-
nied Mrs. Moses Colman. She took a
pair of tall brass candlesticks and
mould candles with her. The candle-
sticks were placed on the ledge on the
front of the square pew, and the can-
dles lighted that we might see the
h}-mns. Nearly every pew was similar-
ly lighted, there were candlebra on the
pulpit, and candles on the communion
table and in the singing seats ; a few
in tin sconces were hung along the
walls, still the house was not very
brilliantly illuminated. The Pleasant
street meetinghouse was dedicated in
October. The sermon was preached
by the Rev. John Andrews : the music
was unusually fine ; altogether it was a
great occasion. A dense mass of hu-
man beings filled every available space
of the large church ; the ladies were
resplendent with elegance, mam' stran-
gers were present, and the dignitaries
of the 'town and parish ; the day was

OF A

209

a festal one throughout the place.

Upon their removal to " Port," both
Gen. Peabody and Col. Bartlett joined
the first society, but in a few years, as
their wives inclined to the more Calvin-
istic preaching at the Old South, pews
were taken there. Both ladies soon af-
ter became communicants, and all the
Peabody children, with the exception
of the youngest, who was born in the
District of Columbia, were baptized at
this font.

Sophronia Peabod}" accompanied her
uncle Leonard Smith to the dedication.
Mr. Smith had purchased the upper
corner wall pew on the side towards
Green street, and to accommodate his
large family two pews had been let into
one. This pew was so crowded, Fronie
and her cousin, Sophy Smith, were
were perched on the window seat, where
they vastly enjoyed the scene.

The new church gave great satisfac-
tion, and for several years was crowded
every Sunday. This societ} 7 counted
amongst its members man} r eminent
persons. Patrick and Nathaniel C.
Tracy, Judge Parsons, and his law
students, amongst which was John
Quincy Adams, the discarded lover of
Miss Mary Fraiser, the daughter of
Moses Fraiser, esq., whose pew was in
close contiguity, to that occupied by
young Adams, whom the Fraiser fami-
ly did not consider a sufficiently bril-
liant parti for the lovely Mary, then
one of the celebrated beauties of the
day. There were the Carters, Daven-
ports, John Bromfield, the > Cross fami-
lies, Michael Hodge, Nicholas iBrown,
Col. Edward Wigglesworth, Joseph
Marquand, Gen. Jonathan Jackson,
David Mood}', Jonathan Greele}', Judge
Greenleaf and his son Col. Greenleaf,
Major Joshua Greenleaf, the Balches,

Stones, Johnsons, Noyeses, Toppans,
Coffins, Jenkins, Mr. Prout, Mr. Israel
Young, Dr. Micajah Sawyer, Captain
Hudson, and many otlier distinguished
persons and families.

The triangular piece of land on which
the old meeting-house stood, was sold
to the town for eight thousand dollars.
The citizens subscribed thirty-five hun-
dred of this sum. From this land
Market square was formed, the well
dug, and the town pump placed very
nearly on the site of the pulpit of the
old meeting-house.

CHAPTER XL.

In 1729 the inhabitants of the upper
part of the second parish in Newbury
petitioned the General Court to divide
the west parish into two precincts. A
map drawn that year shows that there
were one hundred and eighty-four hous-
es in the parish, and the families num-
bered one hundred and eight} 7 - three.

March 20, 1781, the second parish
voted " to desire the General Court to
confirm the setting off of the fourth par-
ish from the second," which was done by
a committee, February 22, according to
a vote passed by the second parish,
January 6th, consenting to the division.

April 15th, 1729, the inhabitants of
the upper part of the west parish, made
an agreement " to build a meeting-house
fifty feet by thirty-eight, and twenty
foot stud." This was the old meeting-
house on Meeting-house hill. The
Rev. William Johnson was ordained
over the new parish, September 15th,
1731.

The Johnsons are an old English
27

210

REMIXISCEXCES

family. The first ancestor on record
was Maurice Johnson, esq., M. P. for
Stamford in 1523. He had two sons,
Robert and Francis.

Robert Johnson, archdeacon of Lei-
cester, married Maria ; died in

1625, leaving one son, Abraham, born
in 1577.

Abraham Johnson married Anna
Meadows in 1597 ; they had one son.
Isaac. Mrs. Johnson died young, and
in 1602, Abraham Johnson married a |
second wife, Cicerly Chadderton, by
whom he had eleven children : Lau- j
rence, Maurice, Robert, William, Ed-
ward, Ezekiel, Nicholas, Francis, Hen-
ry, Cicerly, and Elisabeth. Mr. John-
sou removed with his family from Mil-
ton Bryan to Canterbury-, country of
Kent.

Isaac Johnson, the son of Abraham
Johnson by his first wife, in 1623 was
united in marriage with the Lady Ara-
bella Piennes. This couple with two
sons by the second wife, William and j
Edward, emigrated from Canterbury
to America. The early death of Lacly
Arabella Johnson, which cast so deep
a gloom over that infant colony in the
wilderness, has become indelibly inter
woven in the carry history of the Mas-
sachusetts settlement.

William Johnson settled in Charles-
town in 1630, and his brother Edward
in Woburn. William Johnson in 1633,
married Elisabeth Storey of Charles-
town : they had five children : Rahan-
na, Elisabeth, Joseph, Jonathan and
Nathaniel.

Nathaniel was married in 1668, to
Joanna Long of Charlestown ; they
had three children : Nathaniel, William
and John.

William Johnson, son of Nathaniel
and Joanna Johnson, came from Charles-

town to Newbury in 1698. Nov. 9th.
1702, he married Martha, third daugh-
ter of Captain Daniel Pierce of the
" Pierce " farm, Newbury. They had
six children : Isaac, William, born May
31, 1706; Eleazer, Elisabeth, Martha
and Lydia. William Johnson died in
1741, aged 70 years.

William, son of William and Martha
(Pierce) Johnson, graduated at Har-
vard in 1727. Soon after his ordina-
tion, he married Betty, daughter of Dr.
Humphrey Bradstreet. They had nine
children : Sarah, Martha. Mary, Do-
rothy, Anna, Hannah. William, Daniel
and Bradstreet.

Sarah married Mr. David Chase,
who resided on his farm near the pres-
ent Rocks bridge.

Martha became the wife of Dr. Wil-
liam Hale of Old Rowley.

Mary manned nry grandfather. Jo-
seph Little.

Dolly was twice married ; first to
William Folsom, of Newmarket, N.H.,
who died young ; second to Squire
Blanchard of Chester, N. H.

Anna married Dr. Tennej* of Brad-
ford ; he died the second year of his
marriage from the small pox, which he
took in performing the duties of his
profession. He was a most promising
young man, and bis de/ith was sincerely
mourned throughout the community.
The widow Tenney married Mr. Joseph
Moody of Amesbury.

Hannah married Master Simeon
Chase.

William, Daniel and Bradstreet set-
tled in business in Newbun 'port. Wil-
liam married Temperance Little ; their
two daughters, Temperance and Mary.
died unmarried. The onh* son, Wil-
liam, went to Amesbuiy and engaged
in the carriage business.

OF A NONAGENARIAN".

211

Daniel married Hannah Woodman
of Newbury, June, 1764 ; the}- had
two daughters, Hannah, who married
Mr. Stephen Frothingham, and Betse}',
who married Mr. Thomas Beck, and
went to Portland, Me. Daniel John-
son's second wife was Mary Hortou,
to whom he was married Feb., 1787.

Bradstreet Johnson married Susan-
na Brown, and died childless.

Madam Betty Johnson died August
2d, 1756, in the 43d }'ear of her age.
Parson Johnson married a second wife,
a widow Sargent, from Amesbury. He
died February 22d, 1772, in the 40th
A'ear of his ministry, aged 6G years.
The stone erected b}* the parish to his
memory bears this inscription :

' He was a gentleman of good under-
standing, of uniform piety and vir-
tue, of a very amiable temper, ten-
der and affectionate in his family
connections, a benevolent and faith-
ful friend.'.'

Parson Johnson was reverenced and
beloved in an unusual degree both in
his family and the parish. My mother
was his especial pet ; she could recol-
lect standing between her grandsire's
knees, while he taught her the alphabet,
and though only five years old at his
decease, she could read the Bible quite
fluently.

Eleazer, my great-grandfather's
youngest brother, married Elisabeth
Pearce. They had nine children,
Eleazer, William Pearce, Nicholas, Jo-
seph, Philip, Jane, Sarah, Elisabeth and
Martha. Mrs. Johnson died soon
after the birth of Martha, and Mr.
Johnson in 1766, was married to Sa-
rah Bailey. They had one son, John
Bailey Johnson. M}- great uncle,
Eleazer Johnson, died in 1792.

Eleazer Johnson jr., married Han-
nah Greenleaf in 1777. Their children

were Eleazer, Joseph, Hannah, Abi-
gail and Jacob Greenleaf.

William Pearce Johnson married
Sarah Greenleaf Oct. 1770. Their
children were Mary, Catharine, Wil-
liam Pearce, Sarah, Eleazer 4th, and
Jonathan Greenleaf.

Nicholas, the third son, married
Mary, daughter of Matthew and Anna
Greenleaf Perkins, Dec. 1776. Their
children were Nicholas, Anna Green-
leaf, Mary Perkins, Elisabeth, Sarah,
Philip, Abel Greenleaf, Benjamin
Greenleaf, and Henry.

Joseph, the fourth son, married
Elisabeth Dole. Their children were
Joseph, born 1769, died 1785 ; Richard,
born 1771, lost at sea with Capt.
Whitcomb and crew in 1718 ; Eleazer,
born May 9th, 1773, married Sarah
Newman June llth, 1797; Elisabeth,
born July 1775, married Richard Dole.
Philip, the youngest son, married
Dolly Noyes in 1773. Their children
were Doll}*, Sally and Philip.

Jane, the oldest daughter, married
Nathaniel Nowell ; Sarah, Phineas
Parker ; and Martha, Capt. Desaunette.
Elisabeth, my great-grandfather John-
son's oldest sister, married Isaac Hall.
Their daughter, Hannah Hall, married
Edmund Bartlet ; their children were
William, and Hannah who died young.
Mr. William Bartlet married the
widow Betty (Coombs) Lascom, the
daughter of Philip and Lydia Johnson
Coombs ; Martha the second sister, mar-
ried Ralph Cross; the youngest, Lydia,
Philip Coombs, who came from the is-
land of Guernsey, and was the first of
the family in Newburyport ; it was
their daughter Betty who married
William Bartlet.

Isaac Johnson, the first of the name
in America, and one of the original

212

REMIXISCEXCES

settlers of Massachusetts, arrived at
Salem June 12th, 1630, and died Sept.
30th, following. He ranked by virtue
of his birth, learning and wealth, next
to Gov. Winthrop, and was so placed
in the colonial records. His wife, Ar-
bella or Arabella, was the daughter of
Thomas the 14th Earl of Lincoln.
Gov. Winthrop named the ship in
which the}' came to this country for
her.

Edward and William, half brothers
of Isaac, came to America, in 1630,
probably with Gov. Winthrop. Ed-
ward was a merchant and historian,
as he wrote the "Wonder Working
Providence of Zion's Savior," which
was a history of New England from
1628 to 1652. It was printed in Lon-
don in 1654, and copies of the orig-
inal edition are highly prized by bibli-
ographers. He was also speaker of
the colonial Legislature, and one of
the members authorized to treat with
the commissioners of Charles II. He
resided at Charlestown, and was one
of the founders of Woburn, as Isaac
was of Boston. Edward, as ma}' be
seen from the foregoing, was a man of
great note in the colon}'. He was the
first of the family in this town, as it is
recorded that he traded here about the
year 1634. As this was a year prior
to the arrival of the party with
Messrs. Parker & Xoyes. this trade
must have been with the Indians, or
some isolated pioneers. He kept the
town records of Woburn from its foun-
dation until his death.

Below I give some extracts from va-
rious works regarding Isaac Johnson.

Bancroft, in his "History of the
United States," says :

" The zeal of White soon found oth-
er and powerful associates in and about
London, men of religious fervour : AVin-

throp, Dudley, Johnson, Pynchon. Ea-
ton, Saltoustall, Bellingham, etc., fa-
mous in colonial records."

In another place it says :

"The virtues of Arabella Johnson,
a daughter of the house of Lincoln,
could not break through the gloomy
shadows which surrounded her. and as
she was ill before her arrival, grief
soon hurried her to the grave. Her hus-
band, one of the first men in the colo-
ny, zealous for pure religion, in life
the greatest furtherer of the plantation,
and by his bequests a benefactor of
the infant state, was subdued by the
force of disease and affliction, but he
died willingly and in sweet peace, mak-
a most godly end."

Lossing's "History of the United
States," says :

"Amongst these was Isaac Johnson,
a principal leader of the enterprise,
and the wealthiest of the founders of
Boston, and his wife, the Lady Arabel-
la, a daughter of the Earl of Lincoln.
She died at Salem, and her husband
did not long survive her.''

Blake's Biographical Dictionary con-
firms what I have noted regarding
Edward, stating also, that he went to
Merrimack in 16o2 with a license to
trade. Concerning Isaac it says, "Bos-
ton was settled under his conduct.
He had the largest estate of any of
the colonists, and was the greatest fur-
therer of the plantation." His lot in
Boston was the square between Tre-
niont, Washington, Court, and School
streets, and he was buried at the upper
end of his lot, which gave occasion for
the first burial place, to be laid out
around his grave. This is the church
vard of King's chapel. His house was
on a hill near Tremont street.

Thomas Johnson, kinsman of Wil-
liam, was amongst the earliest ship-
builders on the Merrimack river. He
owned the ship-yard near the bottom

OF A NONAQENAKIAIir.

213

of Ship street, and was one of the
first settlers in that locality. His
home was on the corner of Ship and
Water streets, and at the time it was
built there was only the residence of
Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet and one
other house below on Water street.

William Johnson came from Charles-
town and succeeded Thomas in the
business, and soon became a wealthy
man. In the town records, 1731, we
find, "Town voted liberty to William
Johnson and others to build a wharf at
the foot of Chandler's lane (now Fed-
eral street." ,

The ship carpenters were then one
of the most influential classes in town,
and William Johnson was at their head.
At his death in 1741 he bequeathed
one half of his ship yard, and his
homestead, corner of Water and Fed-
eral streets, to his son Isaac ; his house
corner of Water and Ship streets and
the other half of his ship }-ard to his
son Eleazer. He left legacies to his
son William, the clergyman, and to
his daughter. He was a wealthy man
for those times, and possessed two or
three farms, well stocked, a number of
houses, barns, ware-houses, a long
wharf, a ship yard with all the machin-
ery, tools and implements of art used
in the business, lumber, a negro girl,
etc. The wharf originally cost twenty
thousand dollars, and as much more
was afterward spent upon it. When
it came info" the hands of a descendant,
and the ship yard merged into John-
son's wharf, some thousands were
spent in putting a substantial stone
wall around it. Here Capt. William
P. Johnson, who was first a ship car-
penter, then a successful ship master,
when the Johnson ship yard was
no more, on the Johnson wharf, car-

ried on a large and profitable business.
He owned the first ship employed in
freighting in Newburyport, the "In-
dustry " which was employed in taking
tobacco, from the James river to Eu-
rope. He can be truly called the
father of the freighting business which
was such a source of profit to the
place. Capt. Nicholas Johnson, Capt.
John N. Gushing, and Henry John-
son, esq., afterwards owners of the
Johnson wharf, there successfully per-
sued the same business until their re-
moval to the " Gushing wharf, " which
is still owned in the family. The
Johnson wharf was sold to Mr. Wil-
liam Bartlett in 1830 for eight thous-
and dollars, and was called the Bart-
let wharf. Again in 1855 it was sold
for forty-two hundred dollars, and has
passed from the family.

William Johnson's vessels constantly
arrived at Newbur3 T port, from Hon-
duras, the West Indies, the Straits,
and the north of Europe. He was
the first person in Newburyport who
put blinds to the windows of his
house.

Eleazer Johnson led the band that
seized the tea and burned it in market
square before the destruction of the
tea in Boston harbor. The story is
as follows : Eleazer Johnson standing
one day, upon the timber of his }~ard,
called his men about him, and after a
few patriotic words gave the order,
"all who are read}- to join, knock your
adzes from the handles, shoulder the
handles and follow me." Every adze in
the yard was knocked off, and the stout,
athletic man, who would have marched
through a regiment of " red coats, "
had they stood in his way, taking his
broad axe as an emblem of leadership,
and for use, marched at the head of

214

REMINISCEXCES

the company to the powder-house.
There that well tried axe opened a
way through the door, and each man
shouldering a chest of tea, again fell
into line. The}' marched direct to
where Market square is now located,
defiling round the old meeting-house.
Johnson's axe opened a chest, and box
and tea were on the ground together,
each man as he came up followed suit,
then with his own hand Johnson light-
ed the pile and burned it to ashes.

Through the troublous times that fol-
lowed, the Johnsons stood at the head
of the " Sons of Liberty." Eleazer's
sons were, like himself, intelligent, en-
terprising, and patriotic. His son
Philip volunteered and participated in
the battle of Bunker Hill. His son
Eleazer, who commanded a " Letter of
Marque" in the revolution, the brig
" Dalton," was captured, and he and
his crew were imprisoned at Plymouth
for two or three years, in the famous
" Old Mill Prison." His son Nicholas,
who commanded the "Count de Grass,"
was the first to display the stars and
stripes from his mast-head on the river
Thames . His son William Pearce John-
son, master of brig "American Hero,"
in 1776, hearing, when in one of the
French West Indian islands, that war
had begun, loaded with arms and am-
munition, which he safely landed in
Boston. This was the first material
aid furnished the patriots. Like his
ancestors, William P. Johnson pos-
sessed great muscular power. In a
test of strength with the late William
Bartlett, his neighbor, he lifted eigh-
teen fifty-six pound weights, and was
declared the strongest man in town.
Eleazer Johnson was above the ordina-
ry size, with black hair and eyes.

The Johnson coat of arms are :

GULE?, THREE SPEiU HEADS ARGENT. CHIEF EUMIN'E.
CREST BAVEX'r* WIXGS REVERSED.

The Greenleafs, with whom the
Johnsons so frequently intermarried,
have been a family of great considera-
tion in Newburyport. Three brothers
of the name emigrated here. Benja-
min, a descendant of one of these,
died in 1783, having been a representa-
tive in the legislature and otherwise
honored with marks of public confi-
dence. Jonathan and Benjamin were
nephews of the first-named Benjamin.
The Greenleafs sprang from the French
Huguenots. They removed to Eng-
land in the sixteenth century : thence
to America. Stephen Greenleaf. son
of Edmund, built one of the earliest
wharves in the vicinity of the mar-
ket, in 1680. On that spot next the
town landing w:is the yard in which
Jonathan Greenleaf, his kinsman,
worked as a mechanic. Air. Green-
leaf became the owner of this yard,
and furnished many vessels for the
mother country before the revolution.
He owed all that he was to his industry
and natural talents : having few educa-
tional advantages, he became well in-
formed, won the confidence of all, and
was constantly in some public office.

OP A NONAGENARIAN.

215

He was on the first "committee of
safety " in Revolutionary times, was a
member of the Continental Congress,
of the governor's council, the State
senate, and a representative to General
Court for man}' years. In 1782 the
town of Newbmyport voted thanks
for his long and faithful service in Gen-
eral Court. He was considered one of
the great men of his day : one of the
ablest, most eloquent, and most influ-
ential men, a man of such persuasive
powers that he was commonly known
by the designation of "Silver Tongue."

CHAPTER XLI.

The Rev. David Toppan, the succes-
sor of the Rev. William Johnson, was
ordained April 18, 1774. He married
Mary, daughter of Dr. Enoch Sawyer
of the west parish. He was appointed
professor at Harvard University in
1792, and died August 27, 1803, aged
51 years.

Leonard Woods, D. D.. was settled
December 5, 1798, and installed at
Andover Theological Seminary in 1808.

In 1789, intelligence of the success
that had attended the labors of a }'oung
English missionary in New Brunswick,
having been brought to the Rev. Mr.
Murray, pastor of the Presbyterian
church, as it was a period of much re-
ligious interest, not only in his societ}*
but throughout the town, the clergy-
man forwarded a most pressing invita-
tion to the young divine to come hith-
er. The invitation was accepted, and
the summer of that year the stranger
commenced his ministration in New-
buryport.

Charles William Milton was born in
London the 29th of Nov., 1767. A pro-
tege of Lady Huntingdon, he graduated
at the Seminary established by her mu-
nificence for the education of young
men in the gospel ministry.

Mr. Milton was ordained a mission-
aiy in Spa Fields Chapel, London,
17th of Feb., 1788, and commenced the
labor of his vocation in the British Prov-
inces. From his first advent, the young
preacher created a great sensation in
Newburyport and vicinity. He was in-
vited to settle in Amesbury, but his ad-
mirers in New bury port could not per-
mit him to go, but formed a new society,
the fourth, and settled him as their pas-
tor. This measure, so little anticipated
by Mr. Murray when he solicited Mr.
Milton's presence, must have been gall-
ing to the pastor of the Presb}-terian
church, as the larger part of those
forming the new Independent society
were seceders from his flock.

As the town refused the society
the use of the town house, the members
for a while met for worship at the resi-
dence of Mr. Anthony Morse in Milk
street. In 1793, the present Prospect
street church was erected, and Mr. Mil-
ton was installed March 20, 1791 . His
popularity continued for }-ears, the large
church being filled, often crowded.

This building was at first built with
two towers and belfn's, as now, but
the interior was much more massive.
There were galleries on three sides, the
pews were square, the pulpit like all
pulpits in those daj's, there was a sound-
ing board and deacons' seat. Two
beautiful glass chandeliers lighted the
house ; these, though the church has
been modernized, the society has had
the good taste to preserve.

I was about fourteen j'ears of agp

216

REMESTISCE^CES

the first time I heard Parson Milton
preach ; he was in the pulpit when I
entered the meeting-house. In those
days the seats, which were on hinges, j
were raised during prayer, in order that |
the worshippers might stand more con-
veniently. As the congregation rose,
up went the seats with a clap, and the
" amen " was followed by a slam, bang,
which rattled the windows and rever-
berated through the building in a most
anti-reverential manner. Here and
there a seat was cushioned for an inva-
lid or elderly woman, but it was a rare
thing for a pew to be thus furnished
throughout, and a carpeted floor had
never been thought of. Col. Green-
leaf caused a deal of talk by cushioning
his pew in the new Pleasant street
meeting-house with cushions covered
with red velvet edged by fringe.

I had scarcejy become seited when up
jumped Parson Milton from the pulpit,
in his gown and bands, like a jumping
jack out of a box, and, with up-raised
hands, gleaming eyes, the thick curls
falling to his shoulders, in quick, curt
tones, he shouted, " Let's pra} T ." Up
jumped the congregation ; slap ! went
up the seats. I was scarcely on my
feet, or had regained the breath which
had been fairly taken from me, when
"amen" was pronounced ; down, bang !
went the seats, and a Irymn was given
out. I doubt not that the sermon was
sound and pithy, but the preacher's
manner so wrought upon my nerves
that I could scarcely listen, and the
final amen was hailed with great satis-
faction. I was only too glad, as the
pew doors were flung wide and the men
and bo3's clattered down the aisle, to
follow them into the winter sunshine of
the quiet street.

By his good sense, urbanity, and

originality, Parson Milton obtained a
strong hold upon the affection of his
people. His preaching was bold and
energetic, often interluded by the most
odd and startling illustrations ; at times
he soared into a perfect rhapsody of
impassioned eloquence. The manner
of the man pointed every word, a man-
ner peculiarry his own ; his tones and
gestures must be heard and seen to be
appreciated ; the}- were the power by
which he swayed the multitude. Whol-
ly absorbed in his subject, he often cast
aside rules and regulations, making a
law unto himself.

The sexton of his societ}- was a Mr.
Currier. This name, in the then com-
mon parlance, was called Kiah. On
one occasion, at. an evening lecture,
Parson Milton nearl}- upset the equa-
nimit}' of Ms hearers, by shouting, in
the midst of his sermon, without the
slightest pause between the sentences,
"The Lord said unto Moses, Kiah snuff
the caudles ! " Describing one of his
church members, who was a dealer in

lumber, he Said : ' ' Brother is the

crookedest stick that ever grew on
Zion's hill." One Sunday, in his ve-
hemence, he pushed the Bible from the
the desk, and the sacred volume,
much to the consternation of the
congregation, went, slap ! upon the
floor in front of the pulpit.

On a warm Sunda}' afternoon, the
Parson espied one of his parishioners
asleep in his pew, near the pulpit.
This man's Christian name was Mark.
Leaning forward, in a quick, loud tone
he exclaimed, "Mark!" The sleeper
started and opened his eyes, when in a
lower tone was added, "the perfect
man, and behold the upright. " He
was a true friend of sailors ; every
Sunday his invariable petition arose

OF A

217

" that God would bless our seafaring-
brethren. " Parson Milton died May
1, 1837, aged seventy years.

Several members of the Presbyterian
church, being dissatisfied with the set-
tlement of the Rev. Daniel Dana as
their pastor, withdrew from the society
and forfned the second Presbyterian
church. The society was incorporated
November 24th, 1796. That year
Harris, Pleasant, Broad and Essex
streets were accepted by the town, and
the meeting-house erected on Har-
ris street by the new Presbyterian
society was dedicated in December.
The first pastor of this society was the
Rev. John Boddily, who was born in
Bristol, England, and educated at Lady
Huntingdon's college. He was or-
dained at Westbury, England, in 1780,
and installed in Newburyport, June 28,
1797. Mr. Boddily died in 1802, and
was succeeded by the Rev. John Giles.
This gentleman, also an Englishman,
was born in Caerlon, Monmouthshire,
in 1758 ; he was settled over the socie-
ty iu Harris street, July 20, 1803.
Parson Giles was the great Democrat-
ic, or, as he was commonly styled, Ja-
cobin preacher, rivalling Dr. Parish, of
Byfield, his Federalist opponent. Peo-
ple would rush to town from all quar-
ters to listen to the Democratic dis-
courses of Parson Giles, and the ineet-
ing-house would be thronged, while
vice versa, the town folk would go
out to Byfield to enjoy the eloquence of
the celebrated Dr. Parish's fiery Feder-
alist harangues. The church in Harris
street was the nucleus of the Demo-
cratic society of the place Dr. Smith
of Mount Rural, Capt. Benjamin Pierce,
the Williams' family, the Hortons, Capt.
Richards, Mr. Samuel Noyes of the
"Farms," and other leading families,
28

for though Newburyport was emphati-
.cally a Federalist town, there was still
a most respectable minority of Demo-
crats.

From nry earliest recollection, there
were Baptist churches in Haverhill and
New Rowle3 T , but the society in New-
buryport was not formed until 1804.
This sect had obtained a few converts
through several previous years. I
have elsewhere mentioned an unsuc-
cessful attempt to form a church. The
first regular service was held in a
school-house on Marlborough street,
July 22, 1804 ; a young licentiate
preacher, Joshua Chase, conducted the
service. On Sunday, the 14th of the
October following, Stephen Goodwin,
David Burbank, Benjamin Goodwin,
Bart Hurd, John Flood, Nathaniel Pet-
tingell, and Mrs. Rebecca Dorman,
were baptized. These were the first
ever immersed in the town. The 2d of
May, 1805, a church was regularly or-
ganized. Soon after, the young licen-
tiate was ordained as an evangelist and
went to another field of labor. In the
autumn, an engagement was made with
the Rev. John Peak, who preached
alternately in the Marlborough street
school-house and in a small building at
the "Plains." This continued until
Mr. Peak made it a condition of his
permanent settlement that the society
should worship in some central location
in Newburyport. For a time they
met in a building called the ' ' Taber-
nacle," on Temple street. In 1807
the society began to build a brick
meeting-house on Liberty street, which
was completed the next year, and the
next, 1809, the Rev. Mr. Peak was or-
dained pastor.

Capt. William Cutler, of Newbury-
port, married a French lady, a member

218

REMINISCENCES

of the Roman Catholic church. To
baptize her infant, and perform other
sacraments, Bishop Chevereaux. of
Boston, occasional!}* visited Mrs. Cut-
ler at her residence. There were some
half dozen" French exiles and other
foreigners in the place, also Catholics,
who would assemble on these visits,
in a chamber which Mrs. Cutler had
fitted up for an oratory. These were
the first Catholic services ever held in
Newburyport.

Sophronia Peabod}' when a child was
intimate with Mrs. Cutler's little girl.
One Saturda}- as the two were return-
ing home from school, Frasiette said to
Sophronia : " The bishop is coming to
say mass to-morrow. Mamma expects
him this afternoon in the four o'clock
stage. We have fitted up the oratory
real pretty, and if you will never, never
tell, I will show it to you." Mrs. Cut-
ler, a very quiet and discreet person,
avoided all publicity that might cause
remark or animadversion, consequent-
ly this caution in Frasiette. Fronie
having given the required promise of
secrecy, the two mounted to the second
story of Mr. Cutler's house. Slowly
opening a door. Frasiette. reverentby
crossing herself, admitted her visitor
into a dimly lighted apartment, richly
furnished, and hung with several pic-
tures from scripture subjects ; at the
upper end was an altar covered with a
handsome cloth, upon which was a cru-
cifix, wax tapers, and other appurte-
nances for worship. Gliding across
the room, the little Frasiette devoutly
knelt and whispered an ave. The dim,
religious air of the room, and the so-
lemnity of her companion, made a viv-
id impression on nry .young cousin.
Scarcely would she then have believed
that her baby brother. Joseph Little,

in after years would graduate at a
Catholic college, marry a catholic lady,
and live and die in the bosom of that
church, which, as a New England boy.
he was taught to shun and abhor.

CHAPTER XL II.

From its settlement. Xewbury, for a
new place, was remarkably well sup-
plied with the means of education.
For the first few years. Mr. Parker and
Mr. Xoyes taught the boys of their
charge, but in a short time a regular
schoolmaster was maintained. His
election and the appropriation for his
salary being one of the items in the
warning for the annual town meeting.
Provision was also made for the study
of Latin.

The first schoolmaster of Xewbury
was Anthony Somerby. In the year
1639, "for his encouragement to keep
schoole for one year, he was granted
foure akers of upland, over the great
river, on the neck ; also sixe akers of
salt marsh, next to Abraham Toppan's
twenty akers." In 1675, Mr. Henry
Short was hired at a salary of ~> for
the first six months, and sixpence a
week from each scholar.

As the population increased and ex-
tended, difficulties arose respecting the
location and support of the school.
There was the first settlement on the
river Parker, the Riverside village on
the Merrimac, and the West village
near the Artichoke river. As these
settlements were at a considerable dis-
tance from each other, each holding
distinct interests, it was but natural
that the town meetings became the

OF A NOXAGESTARIAN.

219

arena of much zealous contention upon
the school question. The Parker river
settlement usually contrived to se-
cure the largest appropriation, while
the remote village at the ' ' Plains "
with difficulty secured a mere moiety.
In 1680 the town voted to pay a
salary- of 60 a year, and hired Mr.
Emerson as teacher. The minority
rebelled, refused to employ Mr. Em-
erson, and hired a Mr. Burley for 20.
'The " Generall Courte " was called
upon to settle the matter. It de-
cided in favor of Mr. Emerson,
but as the town was unwilling to pay
the high salary of 60, Mr. Emerson
was requested to teach at the old salary
of 20 ; at his refusal he was dismissed
with only one dissentient vote. The
next year Mr. Burle}' was secured as
master at the usual salary of 20. He
taught nearly two years, and was suc-
ceeded by Mr. Edward Toinson who
resided at the " Plains." .Up to 1691,
the school was located at Oldtown : that
year it was voted that it should 1 >e kept
a third of the year at each of the vil-
lages. Mr. Seth Shone was hired as
master : he was to teach readers free,
Latin scholars were to pay 6d, and ci-
pherers 4d a week.

In 1693, Mr. John Clark was called
to preach and keep a grammar school
at the west village for one year. In
1694 Mr. Christopher Toppan was em-
plo}*ed ; he was to receive ' ' 20 in
money, and 30s in good country pay,
so long as he shall carry on one-half
of the ministry, and 30 in good coun-
try pa}', so long as he shall keep the
writing and grammar school." Nicho-
las Webster succeeded Mr. Toppan;
he was to have 30 in country pay, 4d
a week from "lattin" scholars, and
"nothing a week" for readers, writers,

and cipherers. From 1700 to 1711,
Mr. Richard Brown, afterwards minis-
ter at Reading, was the teacher. In
1713, Mr. John Woodbridge was hired
at a salary of 25 ; he taught the school
for eighteen years, his salary being
gradual!}- raised to 40 per annum.

In 1725 the Third parish was formed.
This parish, as I have previously
stated, had the care of the educational
interests of its children, obtaining what
money was possible from the town and
making up the remainder b}- a tax upon
the parish. In 1728 the town voted
30 for each of the three parishes ; the
Third parish added 30 to its share.
TiiC Third parish school was then kept
in the house of John Ordway, near the
head of Queen, now Market street. In
1732 Master Woodbridge was succeed-
ed by Master Stephen Sewell, who
taught for nearly fifty years. In 1740
the Third parish raised 120 to have a
grammar school, which was taught by
Mr. Samuel Moody, and a writing
school, which was taught by Mr. Leon-
ard Cotton. At the incorporation of
Newburyport, in . 1764, a committee
was appointed to provide, at the public
expense, good and sufficient school-
houses and the best masters that could
be procured. The grammar school was
located on Greenleaf's lane, now State
street, in the town-house, which had
been built by the Third parish two
years previous. This was a two-story
wooden building, surmounted by a bel-
fry and spire, and stood near the upper
corner of Essex street, on a part of
the Clement estate. Mr. Joshua
Moocty was the first teacher. At the
"March meeting," 1764, Mr. Moody
resigned, and Mr. Eleazer Porter was
hired for a time. In July the select-
men offered the school, at 70 a year,

220

REMINISCENCES

to Mr. James Lovell, an usher in a
school in Boston. Mr. Lovell request-
ed time to decide upon his answer.
After waiting several weeks, Mr. Sam-
uel Parker was placed over the school.
He taughf until 1767, and was suc-
ceeded by Mr. Moses Holt, who taught
three years, when Mr. Jeremiah Fogg
took the school, at 60 a year. Mr.
Fogg taught three years, when Mr.
Nicholas Pike was appointed at a
salary of 80. Master Pike was a
renowned teacher. He was also town
clerk, a selectman, and a representa-
tive to the State legislature ; after the
Province became a State he was a jus-
tice of the peace. Mr. Pike was a
great mathematician. His arithmetic
was the first ever issued in this coun-
tn- ; it was in universal use until Mas-
ter Walsh's appeared. Mr. Pike
taught the school until 1791. with the
exception of one year, when his place
was filled by Master Woodbridge.
Mr. Samuel Moody succeeded Mr.
Pike, taught two years, and was fol-
lowed by Rev. Eliphalet Gillet-t, who,
in 1794, gave place to another distin-
guished teacher, Master Michael Walsh.
In 1796 the brick school-house at the
lower end of the Mall, near the site of
the ancient windmill, was built. Mas-
ter Walsh taught until 1803. when he
was succeeded by Joshua Lane. He was
followed by Moody Noyes. and by John
Loud, who kept until 1806. The
school having greatly declined, the
salary was raised from $420 to
and Mr. Eben Coffin hired to teach.
He was a superior teacher, and taught
until 1810, when Joseph Dana suc-
ceeded him. In a few months Mr.
Dana became preceptor of the New-
buryport Academy, and Mr. P>. I).
Emerson took the school. In 1811 he

was succeeded by Asa W. Wildes. In
1816 Mr. Wildes resigned, and Mr. B.
D. Emerson again took the school. In
1818 Mr. Frazier was teacher, but not
giving satisfaction, Mr. Wildes was
persuaded to again take the school,
which he taught until 1823.

The two writing schools established by
the town in 1 764 were located : one on
Bartlets lane, now Winter street, and
the other on a lane which is now
School street. The school in the
North school-house was form ally opened
by Parson Lowell, with a prayer and
an exhortation, in which the pupils
were told "to obe}- and reverence the
master in school, and at all times to
conduct themselves in a proper and
orderly manner."

The Rev. Mr. Parsons opened the
South school with prayer and good
advice to the bo3~s. The master of the
North school was John Vinal from
Boston ; he was succeeded by John
Myc-all, I. Hills. R. Long, T. Thomp-
son, Enoch Titcomb, Henry Titcomb,
Win. Sawyer, Wm. Farnham. Archi-
bald McPhail. Henry Titcomb and
Jonathan Coolidge.

Master Stephen Sewell was the first
teacher at the South s'chool ; he contin-
ued to teach until, his powers having
become unpaired by age, Bishop Nor-
ton was appointed usher ; he succeeded
Master Sewell, retaining the school
until 1790. lie was followed by Joseph
Moody. Joseph Newman, Robert
Long. Samuel Soodhne, Ben. Cheever.
Ben. AVhitmore. George Titcomb and
Newman Brown. This school in 1*L'2
was in the new school-house standing
on the site of the oM one. In 17DG
the writing schools were so full, a
centre school was formed in the room
vacated by the grammar school, in the

OF A

221

old town house, where it remained until
1609, when the second stoiy was add-
ed to the school-house at the lower
end of the mall, and the school re-
moved to it. The masters in the cen-
tre school were Samuel Toppan, Paul
Noyes, Benjamin Clanin, James Burn-
ham, Samuel Colman, Benjamin Gould,
Asa W. Wildes, George Titcomb,
Benjamin Whitmore and S. Goodhue.

In 1805 the " north end" petitioned
for a school- house. A school had been
organized, which was for a while
taught in the upper loft of a barn be-
longing to Capt. Morrison on Kent
street. The brick school-house was
built, which stood upon Kent, corner
of Russia street. The masters of
this school were William Pipkin,
Robert Harvey, Daniel Haskell,
George Rogers, Rev. H. Wheeler,
Nathan Brown, Josiah Bartlett and
George Titcomb.

Master Robert Harvej* was also clerk
at St. Paul's Episcopal church. He
was an excellent teacher, and a most
eflicient church officer, much beloved
and respected b}* the rector and the so-
ciety. Previous to this date, tin foot-
stoves, holding within an iron pan
filled with hard wood coals, had been
the only protection from cold in any
house of worship, but about the time
of Master Harvey's appointment to the
oflici- of clerk, a large, cast iron stove
had been placed in the broad aisle of
St. Paul's church. One cold morning,
finding that the wood fire did not give
the requisite heat, as uncle Nat Bailej',
the sexton, was ringing the bell, Clerk
Harvey proceeded to fix it. In so do-
ing he smutted his hand, which inad-
vertently was passed over his -face,
smearing it most ludicrously. As was
then the custom, at the appointed time

the clerk rose in his desk, and with his
usual grave dignity gave out the Irymn,
the first line of which most singularly
read,

"Behold the beauties of my face."

The effect was irresistible, and a sup-
pressed smile spread over the congre-
gation, while the unconscious clerk
calmly finished the verse.

Master George Titcomb was an ex-
cellent penman. During the winter he
usually taught a private evening writ-
ing school. He was also noted for
making the quill pens then wholly used.

There was no public school for fe-
males until 1790 ; then four " dames'"
schools were gathered for girls between
five and nine years, in which were
taught reading, spelling the catechism,
sewing, knitting, "good manners and
proper decency of behavior." These
" dames" were Ann Bradish, Elisabeth
Chandler, Anne Obin and Margery Ros-
seau. In 1792 the daughters of those
paying a tax of over three hundred
pounds, were permitted to attend the
grammar school, an hour and a half
after the usual session during the sum-
mer, when the number of male pupils
was diminished, to receive instruction
in reading and grammar from the mas-
ters. This arrangement not proving
satisfactory, was discontinued at the
end of the season.

In 1791 two schools for the instruc-
tion of small boys were organized. In
1804 four morning schools were estab-
lished for girls, which were kept from
six to eight o'clock, and Thursday after-
noons, for six months in the year. Not-
withstanding the early hour these
schools were well attended. They were
taught by the masters of the boys'
schools in the four school-houses of the
town.

222

REMINISCENCES

In 1812 these morning schools were
discontinued, and three grammar
schools for girls were established.
One was located in the Court House,
the " north end " school was taught in
the second story of the school-house
on Kent street, and the third was on
Beck street. The teachers were Miss
Chadbourne, Miss S. I. Moulton and
Miss Clarissa Call. Private schools
were extensive!}* patronized. Those
for young children were usually taught
by middle aged or elderly women, in
cap and spectacles. There were Dame
Moody, Marm Emerson, Marm Fowler
at Belleville, and others. Distinguished
private schools for both sexes were
taught by gentlemen. Several of the
teachers of the public school-. :ii
times taught private schools. Master
Long kept in a low, ropewalk-like
building, a rude structure, with an im-
mense fire place, and a wall from which
large patches of plastering had been
detached, while the remainder was in a
cracked and shaky condition. Though
at that time a teacher considered it
necessary never to neglect the axiom
"spare the rod and spoil the child. "
even then Master Long was noted for
severity. " Oh my ! how he did lick
the boys ! " was the exclamation of a
former pupil, as she recalled her school
days. Master Walsh had a flourishing
private school, in a school-house back
of the church on Harris street. Mas-
ter Archibald McPhail, for a time,
taught a very select and genteel school,
in a long, low, wooden building on
Green street, on the lot where the
Catholic church now stands. Later
Master Titcomb taught in this building
a private school for boys. There was
also a number of select schools for
young ladies in the town. In my

childhood Marm Dod and Miss Phillipa
Call were famed instructresses. Mrs.
Catharine Wigglesworth lirown, the
widowed daughter of Col. Wiggles-
worth, had a large and genteel school
for several years in Xewburyport ;
afterwards she was the Principal of a
flourishing seminary in Georgetown,
D. C. Miss Akerman. Mrs. McCul-
loch. Miss Susan Tenney, Miss Elisa-
beth White and Miss Stan wood, had
private schools for Misses. Dr. Sam-
uel Colman, for a time, taught a private
school for young ladies, in a room
over the ''Herald" office. After his
decease this school was continued by
his daughter Mary Ann, at her
mother's residence on Water street.
Miss Brice. an English woman, taught
in the old ; - Tabernacle, " Temple
street. This lad}' and her negro maid
servant were conspicuous characters
at that period.

At each of the female schools, in ad-
dition to knitting and plain sewing, or-
namental needlework was taught, and
in some, instruction was given in
drawing in India ink and painting in
water colors ; also, every girl was
taught to embroider letters in mark-
ing stitch. One was considered very
poorly educated who could not ex-
hibit a sampler ; some of these were
large and elaborate specimens of
handiwork ; framed and glazed, they
often formed the chief ornament of the
sitting room or the best chamber.
When the}- merely comprised the al-
phabet, in the variously designed let-
ters of printing and writing, finished
by a verse of poetry, or a text from
Scripture, the whole enclosed by an or-
namental border, the}' were quite pret-
ty specimens of needle work ; but some-
times, when more ambitions attempts

OP A NCWAGESTARIAET.

223

were exhibited, they were sufficiently
grotesque. I have seen wrought under
the letters, a square, three-storied house
flanked by a pot of flowers, the pot,
and what was intended for a rose bush,
as tall as the house, with a horse on
the other side twice as large as either.
Pocket-books and cushions worked in
crewel, had given place to wrought
muslin, and pictures worked on satin.
Mourning pieces were in vogue, though
some preferred scriptural or classical
subjects. One could conscientiously
pronounce these productions remarka-
ble specimens of art. The needlework
was usually very neatly executed, but
the false perspective and queerly drawn
figures, rendered most of them "simply
ridiculous." Miss Dod had some hand-
some copies of the pictures of the
Washington family executed in her
school, and Mrs. Katy Brown's school
was distinguished for the pictures exe-
cuted by its pupils. Sophronia Pea-
body, of this school, embroidered a
mourning piece, a memorial to her sis-
ter Fila. who died in her fifth year.
In the foreground, on a green mound
stood a white monument surmounted
by an urn ; the front of the pillar bore
the name and age of the deceased ;
above drooped a luxuriant weeping wil-
low : beside the tomb knelt a lady, clad
in the height of French fashion, very
properly drying her tears on a large
handkerchief in the right hand ; beyond
stretched a bit of landscape, put in by
Mrs Brown in colored chalks, which
showed that the lady had a fine talent
for landscape painting. The parting of
Hector and Andromache was a favorite
picture amongst the girls of Mrs.
Brown's school. The couple were rep-
resented in a final embrace on the por-
tico of a palace. Massive pillars sup-

ported the roof ; the floor was of alter-
nate squares of black and white, repre-
senting marble. A little apart stood
the nurse bearing the infant heir in her
arms, while the back ground showed a
a plain dotted by tents. Coats of
arms were also embroidered on white
satin with colored silk. These pictures
were tastefully framed by Mrs. Moses
Cole. Miss Peabody's was framed in
gilt, in an oval of enamel, with gold
stars in the corner.

Miss Man* Ann Colman was a good
teacher of water color painting; the
fruit and flower pieces executed at
her school were natural and well done.
She also taught painting on wood ;
several work-boxes and work-stands,
painted under her instruction, are still
to be seen in the residences of some of
our older citizens.

Besides these schools there were sev-
eral noted academies in the vicinity.
As a boarding-school "finish" was
considered requisite to complete a gen-
teel education, these became flourishing
institutions. The academy at Atkin-
son, N. H., was one of the first estab-
lished in New England ; that at Brad-
ford had been founded several years.
The Lynn academy was at that time a
noted school. When Miss Peabody
was fifteen, it was decided that she
should receive the benefit of an acade-
mic course. My aunt, who was piously
inclined, would have preferred Brad-
ford, but as Mr. Leonard Smith's
youngest daughter, Sophia, and the
daughters of several of Gen. Peabody's
Boston friends were at JLynn academy,
the general and his daughter inclined
to that seminary ; as the gentleman that
3'ear represented the town in the State
legislature, and it was convenient for
Fronie to accompany her father on his

224

REMINISCENCES

way to and from Boston. Mondays and
Saturdays, Lynn received the prefer-
ence.

In 1807 the Newburyport academy
was incorporated. Gen. Peabody was
active in this measure, and he wa< so
much pleased with Mrs. Boardman, the
preceptress of the Lj'nn academy, that
through his endeavors she was secured
for the new academy at Newburyport.
Mr. Amos Clark was the first precep-
tor, assisted by Mr. Archibald McPhail.
Mr. Chandler succeeded Mr. Clark, as-
sisted l>\ Mr. Adams. Mr. and Mrs.
Alfred Pike wer6 preceptor and pre-
ceptress of this institution for several
j-ears. Later, Mr. Eben Bailey, son of
Mr. Paul Bailey of West Newbury,
taught a large private school in New-
bur}-port. Mrs. Lord was the principal
of an excellent school at the academy.
Her pupils executed many fine paintings
in water colors ; some of their paintings
of fruit and flowers on white velvet
were very beautiful. This lady's mar-
riage with Dr. Richard S. Spofford,
was regarded by her pupils and the
public as a loss to which they could
scarcely have been reconciled, had they
not rejoiced in the prospect of her hap-
piness and usefulness amongst them in
a different sphere.

Master Cheever and Master Whit-
more for manj- years were noted teach-
ers in Newbury.

The first Sabbath school in Massa-
chusetts was organized in Newburyport
in 1814. These schools were held in
the chapel of the North church, a small
wooden building on Titcomb street, and
that of the Old South church, a dingy
brick edifice on the upper side of Beck
street. The school at the North was
formed by Miss Phebe Harrod, Miss
Louiza Farnham, who married the Rev.

Dr. Orville Dewey, and Miss Eliza Epps
Carter, who became the wife of the Rev.
David Kimb'all, of Rockford, 111. That
at the Old South, was under the direc-
tion of Miss Ann Wheelwright, who
first married Mr. Samuel Adams of the
Newburyport Academy, second her
cousin John Wheelwright. Miss Dolly
Greenleaf, afterward Mrs. Pearson of
Portland, Maine, and Miss Eliza Gould,
who became Mrs. Rappello of New
York city. Four of these ladies, Miss
Harrod, Mrs. Dewe}', Mrs. Kimball
and Mrs. Rapello, are still living in the
enjoyment of a hale old age.

In 1817 a union school from each of
the societies in the town was organized
at the Court House.

Mr. John Pearson was the first sup-
erintendent, he was succeeded by Mr.
Samuel Tenney and William B. Bannis-
ter, esq. This continued a year or two,
then the different societies formed a
school for themselves as at present, but
for a time an annual union service was
held in Parson Milton's meeting-house,
the children with their teachers occupy-
ing the wide galleries of the spacious
building. A union teachers' meeting
was also continued for some time.

Miss Maiy Hodge was one of the
most active and efficient amongst the
first Sabbath school teachers.

CHAPTER XLIII.

At an early date, the colonists of
Newbury commenced the construction
of water craft. The first vessels de-
signed for fishing and the coasting
trade were built on the river Parker.
As the settlement increased, the water-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

225

side people became largely engaged in
shipbuilding ; many vessels, as I have
previousl}" stated, being built for Eng-
lish owners. The first ferry across the
Merrimac was at Carr's Island, and one
of the first building yards was estab-
lished there by Mr. George Carr. I
have stated that my great-grandfather
Johnson's father had a shipyard as early
as 1695, near the bottom of Chandler's
lane, now Federal street, and the busi-
ness was continued in the Johnson
family for two or three generations.
In 1759 Mr. Gideon Woodwell owned
a yard near the foot of Muzzey's lane,
now Marlborough street, and as early
as 1730, Mr. Samuel Moggaridge had
a dwelling house and building yard at
the rocky point farther up the river,
afterwards known as Moggaridge's
point. At that time Mr. Ralph Cross
was a prominent builder, and Mr. Wil-
liam Gerrish had an extensive yard
reaching from South, now Bromfield
street, to Somerby's court, and from the
river back to Hancock street. Ship
yards were scattered along the river
bank from Pierce' s farm to Mogga-
ridge's point. In the summer of 1766
seventy-two vessels were upon the
stocks, all in process of construction.
During the Revolution many privateers
were built in Newbury and Newbury-
port. At the close of the war, ship
building again became active, but the
ships of those daj-s were small, none
exceeding two to three hundred tons bur-
then. About 1790 Mr. Elias Jackman
established a shipyard near the Chain
bridge. This bridge, built under the
supervision of Mr. Timothy Palmer,
was opened to the public November
26, 1792. About this time Mr. Orlando
B. Merrill established himself in ship
building at Bellevilleport. Mr. Mer-

rill was the inventor of the water-line
model. Previous, only skeleton models
had been used. There were several
other prominent ship builders at the
" Shipyards ; " Mr. Elias Briggs sent
forth a large number of vessels, and
the }-ards of Messrs. Stephen and Ben-
jamin Dalton, Joseph Coffin, and Messrs.
Jonathan and Thomas Merrill, from
year to year resounded with the cheery
sounds of industry.

I have stated that Major Ephraim
Emery married Miss Mary, daughter
of Mr. Peter Russell of Bradford, who
was a distinguished shipbuilder. Their
oldest daughter, Mary Emery, married
Capt. John Remick. This gentleman
was engaged in ship building as a mas-
ter carpenter during his life. In his lat-
ter years Maj. Emery resided with his
daughter and son-in-law at their resi-
dence in Bellevilleport, and there the
old revolutionary hero, who for several
years had patiently borne the affliction
of blindness, breathed his last in 1825,
aged 67.

At the south end, Mr. Gideon Wood-
well had been succeeded by his son,
Capt. John Woodwell, who carried on
an extensive business at this period.
Immediately preceding the great fire
of 1811, many small craft and boats
were built at the south end.

CHAPTER XLIV.

Though the European troubles had
impeded commerce, Newbury port was
as prosperous as her sister seaports.
Her foreign, West India and coasting
trade, combined with the country traf-
fic, caused the wharves and business
29

226

REMINISCENCES

streets to wear the aspect of a thriving
mart.

The first wharf at the ' ' water side "
was built in 1656, near the site of the
present Market house, by Mr. Paul
White, along with a dock, warehouse
and stillhouse. In 1678, Marchant
(Richard) Dole procured the grant of
land lying near "Watts his cellar,"
where he built a wharf and dock.
" Watts his cellar" was also in what is
now Market square. In 1680 the town
granted liberty to Ensign Stephen
Greenleaf and Mr. Daniel Davidson to
build a wharf at the point of rocks
above " Watts his cellar." The same
year Nathaniel Clark obtained a por-
tion of the flats, upon which to build a
wharf. The town also voted to grant
the petition of Benjamin Rolfe, Doctor
John Dole, and Richard Dole, for four
or live rods on the flats, from Watt's
cellar spring to Ensign Greenleaf's, for
a place to build a wharf. Robert Co-
ker, in the behalf of his son, Benjamin
Coker, proposed for a place to make a
wharf. Year after year other wharves
were added down the river until a con-
tinuous line stretched from the ship
yards to Joppa.

In the year 1811 the first was Pills-
bury 's wharf at the foot of North, now
Oakland street. The second was Se-
vier's, near the foot of Broad street.
The distillery of William and Abraham
Williams stood near the head of this
wharf, just below the residence built by
Capt. Sevier, afterwards purchased by
Joseph Williams, jr., from which the
wharf was known by the name of the
Williams wharf. Richard's and Cald-
well's wharves came next. Below was
that of Major Samuel Coffin. This
wharf ran out into deep water ; upon
it was another large distillery, and

twenty sail of vessel could be seen
there at a time, discharging cargoes of
molasses from the West Indies. Hor-
ton's and Newman's wharves ranged
below. Moses Brown's was at the foot
of Green street. Here was a third
distillery, and this was the focus of
Mr. Brown's extensive business. Tit-
comb's wharf came next ; then, Green-
leaf's, Ferry, Boardman's. O'Brien's,
Jackson's, Jewett's, Atwood's, Car-
ter's, Marquand's, Hudson's, and Dav-
enport's. Below was Lunt's mast
yard ; then came Haskell's. Bartlet's,
Johnson's and Coombs' wharves. The
lower wharf was owned by Maj. David
Coffin, who was then one of the most
thriving merchants.

At that time every vessel placed
upon the stocks was wholly completed
and equipped for sea before it sailed
over the bar. This brought a multi-
plicity of business to the town. Along
the wharves stretched lofty warehouses
crowded with merchandise. Carts and
dniys rattled up and down, incoming
and outgoing vessels came and wenf ,
the merry songs and ' ' heave ho's " of
the sailors, blended with the cheery
tones and hearty jests of the steve-
dores, carts from the interior unloaded
and loaded at every turn was bustle,
industry and activity. Here were the
spacious sail and rigging lofts, pump
and block makers' shops, and ship
chandlers stores, every thing that per-
tained to maritime trade. Mr. Joshua
Norton, Joseph Stanwood and the
Messrs. Davis and Haynes, had large
sail lofts ; Thomas Prichard a rigging
loft on Ferry wharf; Enoch Toppau
a block maker's shop on Carter's
wharf. Maj. Joshua Greenleaf did
most of the ship iron work at his large
smithy on Liberty street. Mr. Gor-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

227

don had a similar establishment at
Bellevilleport. This gentleman was
somewhat economical in his house-
hold. At that period cheese was a
customary appendage of the dinner
table, being considered an accessor}' to
digestion. Mr. Gordon employed
several workmen. One day a large
cheese was placed on the table ; after
the meat had been disposed of, Mr.
Gordon took a knife to cut the cheese ;
turning it over, he exclaimed, " this is
a good cheese, a pretty cheese, too
good to spoil ! " and laying down the
knife, he rose and called his men to their
work. That afternoon a large anchor
was to be forged, the fire was kindled,
the iron heated.

"That is a good heat!" exultantly
exclaimed the master.

"A good heat," with one voice re-
sponded the men.

"A grand heat," reiterated the mas-
ter.

"A grand heat," again responded the
men.

"Then why don't you strike?" im-
patiently demanded the master.

"It is a good heat?" queried the
foreman.

"Yes, yes, strike, strike I tell ye,"
hurriedly ordered the master in a quick
authoritative tone. " Strike, strike."

"Don't }'ou think it is too good a
heat to spoil?" quietly returned the
foreman, while not an arm was uplifted.

The hint was taken ; the cheese
brought with a loaf of brown bread.
The luncheon eaten and well washed
down with grog, the anchor was forged
with a will. Mr. Kenniston had then
just set up his forge at the shipyards.
Sargent's gunsmith shop was on Water
street, and Mr. Joseph George did an
extensive blacksmith's business at his

stand on Inn street. Mr. Robert
Dodge had a smithy on High street for
carriage work. Carriage building, which
for many years had been a thriving
business on the main road, had just
been introduced at Belleville.

In 1785, before Washington street
was laid out, Mr. John Tracy had a
rope-walk running from the Quaker
burying ground to the river. A Mr.
Crocker at an early date built a rope-
walk on State street, running from
where the Whitefield church now stands
towards Fair street. He afterwards
built another near Frog pond, which sub-
sequently became the property of a Mr.
Cummings. When the Newburyport
turnpike was built it was laid out di-
rectly through this walk, which conse-
quently was removed. Mr. Cummings
in company with a Mr. Akerman aftei;-
wards did business in a walk running
from South, now Bromfield, to Marlbo-
rough streets. Abel Greenleaf had
a walk which ran from State street,
where stands the store of Capt. John
Buntin, to Green street. E. Swett
built a walk which extended from Fair
to Federal, opposite Charter street ;
this afterwards was purchased by Na-
thaniel Tracy ; and Mr. Swett built an-
other running from Federal to Lime
streets. Moses Kent built one from
Federal to Fair street, where Orange
street now is ; this was moved to the
south side of Federal street, where it
became the property of Edward Wig-
glesworth ; afterwards it was purchased
by Robert Gardner and moved to South
street, where, in company with a Mr.
Laskey, a large business was done at
the time of the great fire. Messrs.
Eleazer Johnson, and Young and Pet-
tingell had walks extending from South
to Marlborough streets. Andrew Laskey

228

REMINISCENCES

had a walk on Milk street which ran
to Water street. Mr. Green Pearson
one from Washington to Water street ;
this was I think the walk built by Mr.
John Tracy. Edward Wigglesworth
built one which ran from Lime to South
street above Newbury ; this was sold
to Eleazer Johnson, moved south of
South street, and afterwards owned by
Andrew Laskey, and finally by Mr.
George Donnell, who is still living,
1880, the oldest man in the city.
E. & I. Swett built a walk south of
Maryborough street. The Gardner
rope-walk was afterwards owned by
David Evans, whose sons went into the
cordage business in other towns. Near
that Deacon Amos Pettingell built a
walk which later was owned b}" Pettin-
gell and Donnell. Eleazer Johnson
built another near the last named which
was afterwards owned by Mr. Worm-
stead and son.

Below, in Newbury, skirting the river
and round ' ' Flat-iron point," was an
irregular collection of small low houses,
forming the fishing hamlet of Joppa.
Here in the season the river bank would
often be lined with wherries which had
just been brought in loaded with fish,
which the sun-burned, bare-footed wom-
en, in brown homespun short gown and
petticoat tucked to the knee, with the
older children, aided the toil-worn fish-
ermen to carry to the great fish-flakes
on the uplands below the long rope-
walks. Round the open doors toddled
wee, white-haired urchins, while others
sailed ships and mimic boats in the
pools and eddies of the flats.

Beside the distilleries I have men-
tioned, Mr. Joseph Williams had a
large establishment at the foot of
Strong street, and Caldwell's on Mer-
rimac street was even then noted, for

its rum, anise and other cordials. Mr.
John Berry Titcomb had a bakery and
flour store back of the North church,
and Mr. Gunnison carried on an exten-
sive business on Titcomb street. Pu-
laski Woodman had a bake-house near
the head of Market street, and Messrs.
Theodore and John Pearson's bakeries
were on Centre street. Mr. Samuel
Wheeler had a bake-house and store on
the same street, and Ebenezer Pearson
one on Middle street.

On the site of the present Market
house was a row of low, open butcher's
shambles, occupied by Mr. David Ten-
nej', Jeremiah Cohnan and David Em-
ery, these two doing business as the
firm of Colman & Emery. In addition
a number of butcher's carts came in
two or three times a week from adja-
cent towns. These after supplying
their customers, occupied a stand in
Market square. Previous to the de-
molition of the meeting-house, it was
their custom to range back of that
building with other country traders, a
row of oat troughs having been nailed
to the sacred edifice for the purpose of
baiting horses. The chief of these out
of town butchers at that time were
Mr. John Follansbee and his son John,
and Mr. Samuel Bailey from the upper
parish in Newbury, and Mr. Williams
from the lower parish ; Mr. Clements,
Mr. Kendrick, and Capt. Sawyer from
Amesbury. Mr. John Dodge had a
large soap and candle manufactory near
Market square. At the north end
were the wool pulling and leather dress-
ing establishment of Messrs. Butler
Abbott and Henry Merrill. Above
were two large tanneries owned by Mr.
John Balch and Mr. Eben Savory, each
of whom carried on an extensive bus-
iness.

OF A NONAGENARIAN".

229

CHAPTER XLV.

The town had been greatly improved
in the past ten or fifteen years ; new
streets had been laid out and graded,
and many fine stores and dwellings
erected. State street as a whole pre-
sented a view of two-storied wooden
buildings, mostly painted pale } T ellow,
with green blinds or shutters. Inter-
spersed were lofty brick blocks and ed-
ifices, and on the lower side adjoining
Water street was a row of old, un-
painted buildings, remnants of the more
ancient town. On the upper side of
the street, the first house from High
was an old fashioned one with a long,
sloping back roof. Here lived "Scrab-
ble " Titcomb. How he obtained this
sobriquet I am unable to say. Next
were the new and palatial residences
of Mr. Joshua Carter and Gen. John
Peabody. On the opposite corner of
Harris street lived Master Pike, in a
large, substantial house ; then came the
Tracy mansion, at that time occupied
by Jacob Coburn as a hotel. The next
was an old wooden structure, occupied
by the widow Wood ; the next be-
longed to Mrs. Burt ; Mrs. Searle also
occupied it as a dwelling, and shop for
dry goods and milliner}-. Below was
the old Wyatt house then occupied by
Mr. Ebenezer Stedman. . On the up-
per corner of Pleasant street stood Dr.
Micajah Saw3'er's handsome residence ;
on the other corner the year previous a
large three-stor}- wooden block had
been built. Here Cornhill commenced ;
before the street had been graded
this was quite an eminence, high and
warm land ; for years it was planted
with corn, and thus obtained its name.
The corner store in the block was oc-
cupied by Arthur Gilman for dry

goods ; then came those of Paul Noyes,
John Porter, Pierce & Gordon, Moses
Kimball, jr., Francis Somerby, and
William Hoj't. William Francis had a
hair dressing shop at the lower end.
The upper rooms were let to Joseph T.
Pike and Paul Bishop, tailors ; James
Hodge, shoemaker ; and the law offices
of Edward St. Loe Livermore, Little &
Bannister, and John Stuart. Next, on
the lower corner of "Thread-needle
alle} 7 ," came the " Wolfe Tavern," a
two-story, wooden building, somewhat
dingy with age ; before the principal
entrance, which was reached by a flight
of steps from the sidewalk, from a tall
post swung the sign, a likeness of Gen.
Wolfe ; from this sign the house de-
rived its name. This was also the
"Eastern Stage Company's" house;
to and from its doors rattled the gaud-
ily painted stage coaches, and in the
rear its numerous fine horses were sta-
bled. This house for many }*ears had
been kept by Moses Davenport, but
latterly it had passed into the hands of
Mr. Prince Stetson. Below the "Wolfe
Tavern" was the '-Phoenix Building,"
an imposing four- storied brick struct-
ure, a fine specimen of architecture,
with handsome copings, and between
the upper windows, arched niches orna-
mented with statues. Here was the
custom house, Ralph Cross, collector ;
the post office, Caleb Cross, post mas-
ter ; the office of the Phoenix Insurance
Compan}' ; the remainder of the lower
floor was improved by Philip Bagle} r and
son, auctioneers, and Joseph Jackman,
dry goods. Prince Stetson had hired
the chambers as additional sleeping
rooms to his hotel ; the fourth story was
"Madison hall." Below the Phcenix
came Blunt's building, a second large
four-storied brick block ; the stores

230

REMINISCENCES

were occupied by Joseph Hooper, crock-
ery. Joseph Coolidge and Moses Os-
good, dry goods ; Howard S. Robinson
improved part of the chambers as a
dwelling, the others were rented to
Charles Norris & Co. for a printing of-
fice, and David Fairman, an engraver.
Next came Peabody's corner, three
stores ; here Samuel Stevens had a
hardware store, John Chickering one
for dry goods, and Thomas C. Whipple
a book store ; above, in the chambers,
were the Nowburyport library, and
Benjamin Lord, tailor.

The first building on the lower corner
of State street, from High street, was
the handsome brick house built by John
Berry Titcomb. Next came the ele-
gant Dalton establishment, then owned
and occupied by Moses Brown. Dr.
Andrews, pastor of the First church,
I'esided in the third house ; next came
those of Mrs. C'arr, and Jonathan
Marsh, esq. The Balc'h place came to
the corner of Temple street. Col.
Stephen Bartlett's house was on the
lower corner ; then came the Moulton
house, and that of David Wood. Be-
low was the bank building, Newbury-
port Bank, William Bartlet, president,
and Samuel Mulliken, cashier; the re-
mainder of the building being occupied
by Mrs. Bodily as a boarding house.
The next lot, extending to Essex
street, had been occupied by the Town
hall. In 1809. Gen. John Peabody
offered to erect a handsome three-story
brick block on this site, the upper
story of which he would furnish as a
hall for the town, to be known as the
" Town hall," with whatever rooms
should be desired for public use in the
other stories, if the town would convey
to him the old town-house and the land
upon which it stood. The town ac-

cepted this proposal, and the present
block was erected. The " Town hall "
was finished and furnished in the best
style. The names of the States were
painted above the windows, with other
appropriate decorations. In the sec-
ond story was a room for the select-
men, and the watch-house was in the L
on Essex street. The first three stores
were occupied b}- James Caldwell,
Prescott Spalding, and David Peabody
& Co. , for dry goods ; below was the
book and chart store of Ebenezer
Stedman, sign of the golden ball ; the
store on the corner of Essex street was
rented by Solomon Davis, for dry
goods, and the upper rooms were occu-
pied b}' Sam'l L. Knapp and other law-
yers and persons, as offices. On the
lower corner of Essex street was Ste-
phen Greeley's shoe store. Next came
the old Clement house. Here, when I
was a child, a man walked across State
street on a tight rope, stretched from
one of its chimneys to that of the
" Wolfe Tavern," an event which made
no little sensation in the staid town.
Below were Osgood & Brackett, shoe
makers ; John Knowlton, cabinet mak-
er ; Jonathan Woodman, jr., silver-
smith ; Merrill's boarding house ; Bar-
ber Newman's shop ; Ebenezer Dole's
variety store, and Daniel N. Dole, sil-
versmith. In the chamber above this
store Obadiah Pearson worked at tailor-
ing. The two last stores were those of
Oilman White, crockery and glass, and
Moses Cole, painter and gilder.

George Little, the first of that name
in Newbury. had two sons, who mar-
ried two daughters of Tristram Coffin.
Capt. Joseph married Mary, and Moses
Lydia. Each of these had a son named
Tristram. One of these Tristram Lit-
tles owned the property from Market

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

231

square to Fair street, between Liberty
and Water streets. On his estate he
built a princely mansion, which at this
time stood a little back from State
street. Though hoary with age, it still
retained much of its ancient elegance,
and was the home of two bachelor
brothers, Michael and Hazen Little,
descendants of Tristram Little. Tris-
tram (son of Capt. Joseph Little) mar-
ried Anna, daughter of 'Stephen Em-
ery. Their oldest child, Mary Little,
married Capt. Michael Dalton, whose
son, Tristram Dalton, was born in
Newburyport, May 28, 1738, and
graduated at Harvard University at the
early age of seventeen. He studied
law as an accomplishment, the fortune
which he inherited from his father not
requiring him to practice it as a pro-
fession. His wife was Ruth, eldest
daughter of Robert Hooper, of Mar-
blehead. Mr. Dalton took a deep in-
terest in agriculture and horticulture,
which was shown in the extensive gar-
den of his residence on State street.
and his estate on Pi pest a ve hill. West
Newbury- His was a most hospitable
mansion ; his town and country houses
were honored by the presence of the
distinguished of our own and foreign
lands as guests. As eminent for piety
as he was for mental endowments, St.
Paul's church, of which he was a war-
den, shared in his generous liberality,
lie was a representative, speaker of
the House of Representatives, and a
senator in the legislature of Massachu-
setts, and a senator of the l'nit"d
States in the first congress after the
adoption of the federal constitution.
When Washington City was founded,
Mr. Dalton invested his entire fortune
in lands there, and lost it by the mis-
management of a business agent. At

the same time a vessel, which was
freighted with his furniture and valua-
ble library, was lost on the way from
Newburyport to Washington, and he
thus found himself, after living sixty
years in affluence, penniless. Several
offices of profit and honor were imme-
diately tendered to him by the govern-
ment, and he accepted the surveyorship
of Boston. He died in Boston, May
30, 1817, and his remains were taken
to Newburyport, where they were in-
terred in the burial ground of St.
Paul's church.

Round the corner of Middle street
was James Kirnball's grocery store,
Whittingham and John Oilman's book
store, and Nathan Ames, shoemaker.
Above was the Herald office, Ephraim
Allen, editor and printer ; beyond was
the dwelling and milliner's shop of
Mrs. Jones. Thomas Dodge's house
and joiner shop, Hannah Bradbury's
house and milliner shop, and the dwell-
ing house of Nancy and Eliza Batchel-
der, milliners. On this street were the
cabinet and chair making shops of
Clark Morss, Elijah Bliss, Southy Par-
ker, Daniel Abbott, E. Dole, G. Parker,
'and S. Dole ; and the groceries of
E. Dole, P. Tenney and P. Thiirlo.
On Market square were Samuel Thomp-
son, tobacconist, Joseph Lesley's coop-
er shop. Ed\v:ird Rand's dwelling house
and hardware store, Daniel Smith and.
Aaron Davis, apothecaries, Enoch
Plummer, Ephraim Titcomb and Moses
Moody, groceries ; Anthony Smith kepi
hardware and groceries, and Perkins
& Dean kept two stores for hardware.
Here were John M. O'Brien's attorney's
ollice, and Daniel Balch's shop for
watch making ; James Locke's, Ed-
ward Toppan, jr's., James Kimball's,
Francis Todd's, and Samuel Foster's

232

REMINISCENCES

dry goods stores ; Edward Little & Go's
book store ; over this store was Enoch
Pike's tailoring establishment. The
office of the Union Insurance Company,
Stephen Holland, president, and the
residence of Dr. Bradstreet, were on
the square, with Thomas Male's hatter's
shop and two ship chandlery stores be-
longing to Abner Wood and Major
Joshua Greenleaf. On Liberty street
were the residences of Major Joshua
Greenleaf, Ephraim Allen, and the old
Emerson house. Below the market, on
Water street, were John Wood's ware-
house at the head of Feny wharf, and
the groceries of Daniel Burnham, Wil-
liam Baj-le}', Joseph Edwards, Benja-
min G. Sweetser, Moses Sweet, Moses
Clark, and Widow Greenleaf ; William
Boardman kept hardware, groceries,
paints, etc. Next to Mr. Bay ley's
grocery was Billy Watkins' property :
two houses and stores, with two back
stores. This Billy Watkins, an ec-
centric old bachelor, was one of the
notorieties of the town. Below was
Humphrey Cook's hatter's shop, and
that of Thomas Lord ; David Moody
and Thomas Moodj' had malt houses,
Mrs. Richardson a milliner's shop,*
Joseph O'Brien's house and store,
the Harrod house, and Joseph Brown,
auctioneer. John Hart's tavern,
Benjamin Appleton's hatter's shop,
Mann Seward's boarding house, a
boarding house kept by Hannah Prime,
Joseph Toppan's house and d^- goods
store, Stephen Gerrish & Son's house
mid dry goods store, John Greenough,
hatter, Clement Star, house and shop,
T. & A. Wheeler, grocery and board-
ing house, Benjamin H. Toppan, cop-
persmith, Timothy T. Ford's house and
dry goods store, and Capt. Duulap's
house and shop. At the head of Mar-

quand's wharf was the residence of
Joseph Marquand, a spacious and
handsome mansion ; several of the
neighboring buildings were his prop-
erty, and below on the wharf his six
spacious warehouses.

Mr. Abraham Jackson's place of
business was on the corner of Centre
street, and he had two large ware-
houses on his wharf. Mr. Joseph
Moulton and his son William, had a
large jeweller's and silversmith's shop
on Broadway. Mr. David Wood
made clocks, in a shop which was one
of the front rooms of his dwelling
house on State street. It was common
to convert the front room of a house
into a shop. Most of the smaller
groceries and variety stores were kept
in this wa}-. A door led from the
shop into the living rooms of the fam-
ily ; thus the mistress of the domicile
could tend the shop, while attending
to her household duties. Mr. Wood's
clocks were the tall, mahogany-cased
time-keepers then fashionable. The
dial, in addition to the usual face, was
furnished with a second hand ; some
told the day of the month, the maker's
name being inserted in the centre,
below a bouquet of roses. These
clocks were in great demand, scarcely
a house was without them in all the
region about. Mr. Samuel T. DeFord
and Charles L. Emerson carried on a
large business in hats and furs on
Merrimac street. Mr. Porter Russell
Messrs. Edward and Abner Toppan
did a large business in the manufacture
and sale of furniture. Mr. Abner
Toppan had a two ston- shop contig-
uous to his house on High street. Mr.
Stephen Toppan on Toppan's lane was
a distinguished architect and builder.
Mr. Timothy Palmer was celebrated,

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

233

not only as an architect and carpenter,
but as a bridge builder ; several of the
best bridges in the country were from
his designs. Miss Mary Jenkins' mil-
linery establishment was in her house
on Water, corner of Market street.
Green and Harris streets were now
lined with handsome houses, most
of which had been built since my
recollection. The first house on the
lower side of Green from High street
was built by Mr. Potter, who carried
on a thriving business at cabinet
making. The next was Mr. Tom.
Clarke's. The house on the corner of
Green and Harris, and the next on
the upper side of Harris street, Mr.
Leonard Smith built for his two sons,
John and William, and here the} r had
recently installed their brides. John
married Mary, daughter of Jonathan G.
Parsons, and great-granddaughter of
Rev. Jonathan Parsons, and William,
Miss Mary, second daughter of Mr.
Abraham Jackson. On the corner
opposite stood the residence of Mr.
Allen Dodge. Col. John Greenleaf's
came next, then Mr. Israel Young's.
That of Jonathan Gage, esq., was on
the upper corner of Pleasant street,
and Robert Laird's house and brewery
were on the one opposite. Below the
brewery came the Washington Hall
building. A two-story wooden edifice,
the hall in the second story, dwellings
and a school room below. On the
corner of Water street stood the Gen-
eral Titcomb house, one of the old and
splendid colonial mansions now some-
what lapsed into decay and let as a
tenement house. The first house on
the upper side from Brown's square
was built by Judge Bradbury. After
he left the town it was purchased by
Capt. Robert Jenkins. Mr. Joseph

Cutler built the house above, but at
this time it was owned and occupied by
Mr. Abraham Jackson. This gentle-
man, a descendant from an English
family of note, was for some years
one of our first merchants. Mr.
Jackson twice married. The first
wife was Mary Mitchell, of Boston, the
mother of one son, Nathaniel, and two
daughters, Ann and Mary ; the second,
Hannah Parsons, granddaughter of
Rev. Jonathan Parsons, also had one
son and two daughters, Isaac Rand,
Ellen and Charlotte. Miss Ann long
ranked among the brilliant stars of
society, possessing a vivid imagination
and much theatrical talent. One who
ever listened to her thrilling tales,
would never forget her descriptive
ability, or her tragic powers.

Mary, Mrs. William Smith, was one
of the most attractive of women, pos-
sessing rare attainments. After her
husband's death she established a flour-
ishing seminar}* at Alexandria, D. C.,
where she drew around her the daugh-
ters of some of the most distinguished
families in the country ; her house be-
came the centre for the best society in
the "District ;" the names of the great-
est statesmen of the period, and many
eminent foreigners were enrolled among
her personal friends.

Ellen married Admiral George Fred-
erick Pearson, U. S. Navy. A viva-
cious and cultivated lady, Mrs. Pearson
adorned the elevated position to which
she was called, winning the esteem of
those with whom she became connected.
Isaac Rand Jackson died young. At the
time of his death he was Charge de
Affairs from United States to Denmark.
He married Louisa Carroll, granddaugh-
ter of Charles Carroll of Carrollton.

Previous to the purchase of the house

234

REMINISCENCES

on Green street, Mr. Jackson's resi-
dence was on Water street, near that
of Joseph Marquand. When the old-
est son, Nathaniel, was eighteen, Mr.
Marquand being a representative at
the General Court in Boston, young
Jackson passed the night at his neigh-
bor's. Before retiring, Mrs. Mar-
quand would order a large armful of
wood and some half dozen mould can-
dles, then bid the young man good
night, with the remark: "Now, Nat,
read just as long as you please."

In the Revolutionary war one of Mr.
Marquand's prizes contained a librar} T ,
the property of the Governor-General
of Canada, which that dignitary had
forwarded to England preparatory to
following himself. Naturally a devour-
er of books, this large collection of the
best authors was a rare treat, and night
after night the visitor, forgetting time,
pored over the pages, which often were
of the old fashioned brownish paper,
and fine type, until his e3'esight entire-
ly failed. This weakness of the eyes,
changed his whole career. He left his
father's counting room, and, as super-
cargo, entered upon a life on the "ocean
wave." For years foreign lands and
tongues were more familiar than his
own. He became an apt business man,
a distinguished linguist, a remarkably
well informed and most accomplished
gentleman. His knowledge of Spanish
was such that in the war of 1812, while
sailing under Spanish colors, he was
kept three da}"s on board of a British
man-of-war without disclosing his na-
tionally, though every artifice was used
to catch him off his guard. On the
third day he was permitted to return to
his ship, which proceeded on its course.
Some time after having been captured,
Mr. Jackson, when on parole in London,

met an officer of the vessel in which he
had been detained. This Lieutenant
had striven by every device to startle
young Jackson into some unguarded
exclamation, but without avail. In-
stantly recognizing the pseudo Span-
iard, he gave his hand with a cordial
greeting, exclaiming " I knew you was
a Yankee all the time, who ever saw a
blue-eyed Spaniard ? But you was such
a deuce of a clever fellow we could not
detain you."

Mr. Jackson married, in Gottcnlmrg,
Miss Johanna Tod, a lady of Swedish
birth, but of Scottish parentage. His
eyes having regained their strength he
ceased his wanderings. At his house
in Newburyport he often entertained
distinguished foreigners. Bishop Chev-
ereaux, on his visits to the place, never
left without calling to enjoj" a chat in
his native tongue ; later several young
men from the Spanish West India
islands availed themselves of his in-
struction in learning English. The
tidings that Nat. Jackson had contract-
ed a marriage abroad made no small
stir amongst the belles of Newbury-
port, but time showed the wisdom of
his choice. Lovely, devoted, well did
Mrs. Jackson fulfil the vow to love
and cherish for better for worse, for
richer for poorer, in sickness and in
health. The friend and companion, as
well as the watchful and judicious
mother of her children, a kind neigh-
bor and faithful friend, none knew her
but to love her. To the choice circle
admitted to her intimacy, she became
dear as a sister, and the j-outhful com-
panions of her sons and daughters, will
ever cherish the memory of one, who,
by her grace and urbanity, her sympa-
thetic interest in their joys and griefs,
her many little devices for their enter-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

235

tainment and amusement, made so
many sunn}* hours, which will ever
gleam undimmed amidst the recollec-
tions of the past.

Capt. and Mrs. Jackson reared a gifted
family of four sons and three daughters.
The second daughter married Capt.
Joseph C. Hoyt, one of the most suc-
cessful ship masters of Newburyport,
who died on the 5th of June, 1880.
Andrew, the second son, died in boy-
hood. Thomas the eldest, and Cor-
nelius Soucha}', the youngest, settled in
St. Louis, where both died, the former in
middle life, the latter in early manhood.
Highly beloved and respected, a large
circle, both at the east and wst, mourn
their early death. To the versatilit} T
of talent, hereditary in the family, to
Souchay was given a fine artistic genius,
a Hogarthian power to portray, with
lifelike vividness, as if- by magic, the
persons and scenes around him, slight
pencil sketches, but these depict a pow-
er that needed only practice, to have
placed him amongst the most eminent
of world-renowned artists. Nathaniel,
the third son, won a brilliant record in
the war of the rebellion. Entering the
army as Colonel of the first Maine regi-
me irt, three months men, he continued
in the service, after the return of the
regiment. Wounded at the battle of
Games' Mills, he was promoted to the
rank of Brigadier-General for his
gallantry. He accompanied Sherman
through his Southern campaign, leaving
the army, at the end of the war, with
the rank of Major-General by brevet.

The arms of Jackson (Southgate)
co. Middlesex, are :

GULES, A GREYHOUND COUKANT, IN A FESSE OK, BE-
TWEEN THREE PHEONS OR. CREST A GREYHOUND
PASSE SA, COLLARED OH, RESTING THE DEXTER
FOOT ON A PHEON OF THE LAST.

The next house, on the corner of
Green and Union (now Washington)
street, was built by Capt. Babson, from
Gloucester, who came to Newburyport
for business facilities. It was pur-
chased by Col. Fowle, and after his
decease it was occupied by Joseph Cut-
ler, who married Col. Fowle's widow.
Mr. Cutler, the cashier of the Merri-
jnac Bank, died suddenly, early in the
present century. The lower half of
the house, at the time of Mr. Cutler's
death, was occupied by Mrs. Cutler's
nephew, Mr. Joseph Hooper. This
gentleman, a grandson of Robert, com-
monly styled "King" Hooper, of Mar-
blehcad, and Benjamin Hams, the dis-
tinguished merchant of Newburyport,
and son of Joseph Hooper, the royalist,
was born after his father went to Eng-
land. In several ways this young man
was despoiled of a large fortune. His
father's property was confiscated by
government ; his furniture had been
previously burned by his indignant
townsmen; through treachery and

236

REMIXISCEXCES

fraud he lost an estate in Boston, on
Pemberton hill, which by right belonged
to his mother. Pemberton square has
been laid out on this property. Noth-
ing daunted, Mr. Hooper gathered the
remnants of his patrimony and opened
a crockery store in Blunt's building,
State street. Soon after he was united
in marriage with Miss Man' Whitmore,
the daughter of Col. Joseph Whitmore,
a veteran of the Revolution, whose
residence was on Fair street. Mr. and
Mrs. Hooper reared a large and highly-
talented family of sons and daughters.
Afterwards Mr. Hooper occupied the
three-story house on Washington, near
Boardman street, for some }-ears the
residence of Enoch S. Williams, esq.
In the rear of this house, Mr. Williams
established the first comb factory in the
place, and in this house Mr. and Mrs.
Hooper's fourth daughter, Luc}', the
able writer, was born. Though she
passed from earth in early womanhood,
her name had become enrolled among
the sweet singers and celebrated au-
thors of America.

The Hooper coat of arms are :

OR, ON A FE88E BETWEEN TiyiEE BOARS, PASSE AZURE,

AS MANT ANNULETTES OF THE FIRST. CREST

BOAR'S HEAD ERASED AT NECK, AZURE.

BESSANTIE ARMED AND CRINED.

The Harris arms are :

AZURE, A CHEVRON ERMINE, BETWEEN THREE HEDGE-
HOGS, OR ON A CHIEF, THE PRUSSIAN EAGLE WITH
IMPERIAL CROWNS. CREST A HEDGEHOG OR.
SUPPORTERS OF ARMS, ON THE DEXTER
BIDE EAGLE, ON SINISTER A STAG.

Mrs. Joseph Cutler, as Miss Alice
Hooper, had been a celebrated beauty.
Her portrait, by Copley, has excited
universal admiration. The lady is
painted in a dress of blue satin, with
antique bodice, full skirt, and demi-
open sleeves, finished by double lace
ruffles, with stomacher to match, neck-

lace and ear-jewels of pearls, hair
brushed from the forehead and turned
over a roll at the back. One hand
hangs gracefully at her side, the other,
outstretched, catches the sparkling
drops from an old-fashioned aqueduct.
Beyond is a wood, lighted b}' a shim-
mer of sunset glow ; through openings
the 03*6 catches glimpses of an open
country, stretching far in the distance,
with a gleaming horizon, barred by
ruddy cloud streaks. Words are inad-
equate to describe the perfection of
this painting. The shadow of the lace
upon the arm is a wonderful specimen
of art, and one listens to hear the tin-
kle of thd fountain, or stoops to catch
the pellucid drops from the maiden's
fair hand.

Newburyport at that time was rich in
Coplej-'s paintings. Mr. Joseph Hoop-
er had a likeness of his father, and Mrs.
Nathaniel Tracy, whose maiden name
was Mary Lee, niece of Mrs. Robert
Hooper, had life-size portraits of her
father and mother. The p'air are painted
in the dress fashionable at the time of
their marriage. Mrs. Lee is depicted
coming from a garden laden with roses.
These are magnificent pictures. I have
been told that the artist ranked them
among his very best. The onlj- picture
by this distinguished artist at present
remaining in the city of which I have
any knowledge, is a pastel, half size
portrait of the third daughter of Rob-
ert, or "King" Hooper of Marble-
head, Rebecca, wife of Lewis Jenkins.
Mr. Jenkins for years kept a dry goods
store on State, corner of P^ssex street,
at the sign of the golden ball. He died
in 1799. The portrait is that of a
young lad}' in the dress of the period,
cut low, square in the bosom, and
trimmed with rich lace, the hair turned

OF A

237

over a roll, and ornamented by flowers.
The face and figure present the delicate
beauty, and high bred grace which
characterized the ladies of the Hooper
family. This picture has descended to
a grandniece, Mrs. Caroline (Gallis-
han) Currier of Belleville. Eobert, or
King, Hooper was born in Marblehead.
His father came from Wiltshire, Eng-
land, amongst the earliest settlers of
this country. Robert married Ruth,
daughter of Mr. Joseph Barnard
Swett, a prominent merchant. They
had six sons and four daughters, Mrs.
Dalton, Mrs. Cutler, Mrs. Jenkins,
the fourth. Hannah, who married a
White, His son Stephen owned the
"Hooper farm," on Pipestave hill,
afterwards purchased by my uncle
John Coker. Mr. Robert Hooper was
one of the principal founders of Mar-
blehead prosperit}-. His fellow-towns-
men held him in high esteem, and
styled him ' ' King Hooper, " as a mark
of honor. Mr. Hooper owned a fine
country seat" in Danvers, which is
now the property of Mr. Francis Pea-
body. This was a magnificent estate,
one of the handsomest of the grand old
colonial mansions, with appointments
and grounds to match ; the place was
lamed for its beautiful trees. The
walls of the best rooms were hung with
tapestry, and the furnishings equalled
it in splendor. At the commencement
of the Revolutionary war the British
for a time quartered troops upon the
place, and so well was it stocked with
all that was requisite for man and
beast, that the soldiers were not
obliged to go elsewhere for supplies.

Though his son Joseph chose to re-
main loyal to King George, Robert
Hooper was a true patriot. At the
beginning of the war he refused the

offer to be made King's Commissioner,
an extremely lucrative situation.

The Rev. John Pierpont, during his
residence in Newburyport, occupied
the Cutler house for a time.

On the upper corner of Green and
Union streets, was the mansion built by,
Judge Parsons, then owned and oc-
cupied by Leonard Smith. Mrs. Smith
was a sister of General Peabod}-. Mr.
Smith at that time ranked amongst our
wealthiest and most active merchants.
Above came the long, low school-house
I have mentioned. The corner border-
ing on High street was an open field.
The first of the three-story houses on
Harris street, from Green, was built
and at that time occupied by Obadiah
Parsons, the second by Samuel Dole,
the last, next to State, b}- Capt. Sam-
uel Chase.

The lower side of Tyng street and
Toppan's lane formed the dividing line
of Newburyport from Newbury. The
house on the corner of High and Tyng
streets was built by Thomas Cokcr, who
also built the house on the upper cor-
ner, in Newbury ; the one below, down
Tyng street, was .built by Humphrey
Webster. The second on High was
the residence of Abner Toppan ; the
tlnve-stoiy hou.se on the corner of
High and Broad streets was built b}-
Moses Fraiser, esq. ; at this time it was
owned and occupied by Capt. Jacob
Greenleaf. The next, on Broad street,
was built by Capt. Moses Goodrich;
the one In-low by Thomas (Joker. this
gentleman was the father of my uncle
.John Coker, of West Newbury. At
this time the house was owned and
occupied by a Mr. Brown. The hand-
some residence of Tom. Thomas came
next ; below that, Moses Coffin, the
lather of Mr. Emery and Col. Fred-

REMINISCENCES

erick Coffin, had built a three-story
house ; further clown was the residence
of Capt. Fletcher.

Mt. Rural, the estate of Dr. Josiah
Smith, bordered the upper side of High
street, from Toppan's lane nearly to
.Kent street ; fields intervened to Com-
mon pasture lane, now Johnson street.
The first house on the lower side below
Broad was the residence of Dr. Bond ;
the next had recently been erected by
William Swain ; the brick house on the
corner of Kent street was built and
owned by Messrs. Enoch and Ste-
phen Toppan : a field separated Kent
from Buck street. Capt. Buck's hand-
some brick house was on the lower cor-
ner of Buck street ; Mr. Woodman's be-
low. Opposite, on the lower corner of
Pasture lane, was the new three-stor}-
house of Capt. William Hoyt ; below
was the residence of Capt. Charles
Goodrich ; next came the elegant man-
sion of John Tracy ; below was the
Dexter house, then Caldwell's tavern.
On the lower corner of Olive street
stood the old Frotiiingham house, the
birth place of the wife of Lord Tim-
othy Dexter ; below, came the Bassett
house and the residence of Mr. Porter
Russell. A house owned by Mr. Wil-
liams was on the upper corner of
Boardmtui street; and Capt. Lunt's on
the lower. The elegant residence of
Dr. James Morse, rector of St. Paul's
church, came next ; below were the
handsome mansions of Capt. Tristram
Coffin, Capt. William Fans, Mr. Ab-
ner Wood and Jonathan Pettingell.
The old Pettingell house was below on
the upper corner of Winter street.
Nrxt to the Dexter house garden, on
the upper side, was theTitcomb house,
and a two-story house, built, I believe,
bj' a Mr. Somerby ; next was the rec-

tor}- of St. Paul's parish, at that period
occupied by the widow of Bishop Bass.
Below were the handsome three-story
houses built and occupied by Capt.
W}-att and Samuel A. Otis, esq. ; next
came the Carey house, the former resi-
dence of the Rev. Thomas Carey of
the first church ; Mr. Philip Bagley's,
Enoch Toppan's. and that of Deacon
Parker followed, with the Cooper and
Packard houses. Below Star alley was
the Horton house and a row of old
style domiciles ; on the 'corner next the
mall stood the mansion of Daniel Farn-
ham, esq. Jacqb W. Pierce occupied
the house on the lower corner of Winter
street ; next came the Marsh . house
and the old Bailey place ; below, St.
Paul's church and church-yard. On
the opposite corner of Mai'ket street
was the Morse house, famous in the
annals of witchcraft, a picturesque old
fashioned building painted red ; below
came the Hodge house, and the resi-
dence of Dr. Adams on the upper cor-
ner of Court street. Below the mall,
on the upper side, were the residences
of William Moulton and William Green-
leaf, the academy and the handsome
mansions on the ridge, Judge Liver-
more's, Capt. Abraham Wheelwright's,
Mr. Stocker's, Capt. Eben Wheel-
wright's, Deacon Solomon Haskell's,
Richard Pike's. Capt. John O'Brien's.
Capt. Philip Coombs', and Elias Hunt's.
The old Prout house and that of Capt.
Benjamin Pierce stood below. Dr.
Charles Coffin's was the 'last house be-
fore crossing the Newbury line.

On the lower side the first house
from Newbury was that of Samuel Mil-
liken ; then came Capt. Micajah Lunt's,
the old Tom Cross house, Capt. Sam-
uel Swett's, Anthony Davenport's, and
Capt. Holland's, on the lower corner of

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

239

Federal street. Fields stretched from
Federal to the lower side of State
street; the old Buntin house stood
on the upper corner. The four-
story brick block on Brown's square
had been recently built. On Market
street were the handsome residences of
the Hortons, Stephen Frothingham,
Edmund Bartlett, and Capt. Isaac
Stone. The Hoyt mansion was on
Boardman street, with the Johnson's,
Gallishan's, and Capt. Pulsifer's. Mr.
Butler Abbott had a handsome estab-
lishment on Kent street ; Capt. Sam-
uel Baile3 T 's residence was on Spring
street. Captains Eleazer and William
P. Johnson, William Coombs, and
William Bartlett, esq., occupied hand-
some houses on Federal street. Capt.
Nicholas Johnson had recently pur-
chased the large brick house on the
Boston turnpike, built by William
Wooart, esq ; Mr. Seth Sweetser built
and occupied the one below. Capt.
John Coombs resided on Water, corner
of Lime street ; Judge Greeuleaf 's
residence was on the corner of Union
and Titcomb streets. The At wood
house stood on Lime, corner of At wood
street. Besides the residences I have
named, there were many others, both
spacious and elegant, scattered through-
out the town. A stable was attached
to the better class of houses, and many
of the more common had a barn for the
accommodation of a cow if not a
horse. Most families had one or more
cows, which in summer were pastured
in the upper or lower common ; when
returning home at nightfall they made
quite a drove. The more prominent
citizens usually had a horse, and some
kept a coach and span.

There were three Masonic lodges :
St. John's, St. Peter's and St Mark's.

St. Peter's occupied Washington hall ;
I think St. John's assembled in Madi-
son hall in the Pha'iiix building, and
that St. Mark's joined with St. Peter's.

Samuel Bartlett, a younger brother
of Col. Bartlett, occupied the lower half
of his house. Mr. S;umiel Bartlett was
a Mason. When I was a child the breth-
ren often assembled at his residence.
The}- occupied the front chamber, where
they would keep up a most tremendous
racket until a late hour.

Mrs. Bartlett was a delicate woman
with small children, and my aunt was
subject to nervous headaches. I won-
dered that they bore the infliction with
any patience. For myself I obtained a
great dislike to the order, and firmly
believed in the red hot gridiron and
every other diabolical invention.

CHAPTER XLVII.

At this time the old English style
had not wholly passed from society ;
there was more of precedent and caste
than now.

The professional men and their fam-
ilies held the first rank, then came the
merchants, town and national officers,
shipmasters, the more prominent and
wealthy mechanics, etc. Politics sepa-
rated the elite ; though sometimes meet-
ing on common ground, usually there
was but slight social fraternization.
There were Federal and Jacobin clubs,
military companies, balls and parties.
One lady would not call upon another
of the opposite party ; gentlemen were
scarcely civil to each other ; much ran-
cor, bitterness and scorn were shown
upon both sides. The artillery company

240

KEMENTSCEXCES

were Jacobins, the " Silver Greys"
Federalists. The leading Jacobins were
Capt. Benjamin Pierce, the O'Briaus,
Mr. Marquand, Capt. Russell, Dr.
Smith, of Mt. Rural, the Williams
family, Capt. Richards, and others.

Most of my town relatives were
Federalists. Through my Johnson,
Little and Smith ancestry, I was con-
nected with the Johnsons, Crosses,
Coombs', Wheelwrights, Noyes', Bart-
lotts. and other of older families. At
their residences, and those of my uncles
Peabod\' and Bartlet, I met. the most
brilliant stars in the Federalist galaxy.
My great-uncle Daniel Johnson was
the black sheep amongst his Federalist
brethren. At Gov. Gerry's election
the opposition got up all sorts of slurs :
one was a caricature called a " Gerry-
mander." Uncle Daniel took pains to
procure a copy which he sent to me.
The Democratic party also had the
ascendency in the legislature. In 1812
the old senatorial districts were re-
arranged, and the Federalists, in de-
rision, drew this figure, as representing
Essex county :

J\ Gerrymander,

The picture uncle Johnson sent to me
was in the Newburyport Herald, and
covered two-thirds of one page of that
sheet.

The Embargo Act wholly disarranged
the business of Newburyport ; for a
time it brought much suffering. It was
but natural that opposition to the pol-
icy of the administration should be
nearly universal. On the first anniver-
sary of the passage of the act, the flags
were hung at half mast, the bells were
tolled, and minute guns were fired :
while a procession of sailors bearing
crape on their arms marched through
the streets, headed by a dismantled
vessel drawn by horses on a cart. This
craft bore a flag inscribed : " Death to
Commerce." On the quarter-deck
stood a sailor with a glass in his hand,
and a painted motto bore the words :
"Which way shall I steer?" Occa-
sionally the sailor threw the lead. Op-
posite the custom house he delivered an
address appropriate for the day and
the Federalist party.

In 1809 the Embargo gave place to
the Xon-Intercourse Act. Negotia-
tions with Great Britain followed,
which resulted in the release of our
citizens impressed into her service.
In 1810 France repealed her conti-
nental decrees. Business revived, and
shipbuilding again became active.

The brilliant coterie of which Judge
Parsons, and his law students, Robert
Treat Paine, Rufus King. John Quincy
Adams and other talented 3"oung men,
the Jacksons, Daltons, Trace's, Green-
leafs, Hoopers, and other distinguished
families, the Misses Fraiser, Atkins,
Searle, Bradbury, Farnham, Thomas,
Jenkins, and other belles and beauties,
who graced the assemblies at the old
Tabernacle in Temple street, in my

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

241

mothers girl-hood, had been succeeded
by another generation. Of the clerg} r -
men's families, the three daughters of
Parson Giles had just entered society.
Dr. Andrew's oldest son was in col-
lege and Margaret was in her teens.
Dr. Spring's oldest sons were also
collegians. Dr. Dana's and Parson
Milton's children were small. Dr.
Morss had recently married Miss
Martha Boardman. Dr. Micajah Saw-
yer was the senior physician, his two
daughters, Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Schuy-
ler, had been married several years.
I vividly recall the grandeur of their
nuptials. Dr. Francis Vergnies, a
Frenchman, a physician of much skill,
and extensive practice, lived and died
a bachelor. His home for many years
was on the lower corner of Union,
(now Washington,) and Market streets.
Dr. Nathan Noyes had married Miss
Mary Niles, of Hanover, N. H., and
established himself in Newburyport,
where he was fast becoming a celebrity.
Dr. Bricket, had moved into town from
the lower parish in Newbury, where he
still had a large practice. Dr. Pres-
cott, who had recently established him-
self in the place, with his wife and
lovely daughters, was fast acquiring a
wide spread popularity. Dr. Johnson,
a young man and unmarried, had just
received his diploma.

Theophilus Bradbury, judge of the
Supreme Court of Massachusetts, died
in 1803. Judge Parsons, when a stu-
dent, read law in the office of Theoph-
ilus Bradbury, who was a member of
Congress from this district during
Washington's administration.

Judge Livermore was then the oldest
and the most distinguished of the legal
fraternity of the town ; he was also
our representative to Congress. His

daughter, Miss Harriet Livermore,
from childhood had been noted for
eccentricity ; her singular conduct and
conversation was a frequent topic for
remark.

William B . Bannister esq. , had recent-
ly formed a partnership with Edward
Little.

Tom Carey, the son of the late Eev.
Thomas Carey, a talented, highly edu-
cated, polished and entertaining young
man, would probably have acquired a
high reputation, had he not, like too
many others of that generation, suc-
cumbed to the demon of dissipation.
Possessed of wealth, a handsome per-
son, pleasing address and rare accom-
plishments and culture, with a power
of adapting himself to any society,
great wit, humor and generosity, not-
withstanding his convivial proclivities,
as yet he held posts of trust and honor,
gentlemen hailed him as the prince of
good fellows, and ladies, with whom he
was a general favorite, smiled their
sweetest at his approach.

One evening, Tom Carey and a num-
ber of other young men had been hold-
ing an orgie, in a low tavern near Mar-
ket square. About midnight they sal-
lied forth, "half seas over." The
northern sky was brilliant with an au-
rora, but in their muddled condition
Tom's companions took it for a fire at
the north end, and commenced to give
an alarm. " Shtop, shtop, " cried Tom,
"don't scream, its only the Rora Bo-
lis, keep to the west, keep to the
west !" The next afternoon, sobered
and shaved, curled, powdered and
cued, in fine broadcloth, Wellington
boots, bell crowned beaver, kid gloves
and gold headed cane, Mr Care}- ac-
companied by Dr. Spring, as school
committee, was making the round of

242

REMTSTSCEXCES

the schools. As they passed down
State street, old Morrill, a rough, saucy
blackguard, stood at the door of his
boarding house, and esp} r ing the pair,
he shouted, " Keep to the west Mr.
Care}% keep to the west. " Tom had
the grace to color, while his compan-
ion looked the curiosit}* he was too
polite to form into a question. Mr.
Carey passed the matter by some re-
mark, and for a time it was noticed
he was remarkably circumspect in his
conduct, but the story became current,
and " keep to the west, " remained a
jest for a long time.

William H. Prince, Ebenezer Mose-
ley, Sam L. Knapp. John Scott and
Moody Noyes, were all young lawyers
boarding at Coburn's Hotel in the Tra-
cy House. Tom Carey also boarded
with Coburn. This bevy of }'oung
attorneys were a special attraction to
the belles of the period. The previ-
ous Fourth of Juby Squire Mosele}~ de-
livered an oration in the Pleasant
street meeting-house ; there was a pro-
cession, fine music, and a grand gala
through the day and evening. Young
Moseley acquited himself with great
eclat and some of the enthusiastic
misses plaited a crown of laurels as a
gift for the orator, but not having the
courage to present it, he never knew
the proposed honor, though ever after
he was known amongst them as the
" laurel crowned Demosthenes. "

Sam L. Knapp was a splendid man,
the prince of beaux, winning his way as
by enchantment, particularly distin-
guished as a belles-lettres scholar, he
wielded the pen of a read}' writer, his
imagination was vivid, his power of
description graphic, his conversation
both brilliant and instructive.

Moody Noyes, a promising young

man, modest and retiring in society,
died young. Jacob Gerrish was
another A'oung lawyer, and Stephen
Hooper, a son of Mr. Stephen Hoop-
er of the Pipe-stave hill farm.

Messrs. Clark, Chandler and Ad-
ams, Archibald McPhail, AsaW. Wildes,
Benjamin A. Gould, George Tit-
comb and Joseph Gleason, the editor
and publisher of the "Statesman,"
the Democratic newspaper, were favor-
ites in society. Arthur Gilman, John
Porter, David Peabody, George Pea-
body, Francis B. Somerby, Edward
Toppan jr., Joseph Huse, George
Cross, Oliver and Prescott Spalding,
Abner, William, James, John and
Alexander Caldwell, and their cousin
William Caldwell, Moses Osgood,
John Chickering, Jonathan Coolidge,
Henry Frothingham, John R. Hudson,
Edward S. and Isaac Rand, Isaac
Hand Jackson, Joseph Marquand,
Joshua Aubin, Sewell Toppan, Joseph
Abraham, Robert and William Wil-
liams, Nathaniel, John, William,
Thomas, Leonard and David Smith,
Samuel T. DeFord, Simeon Wade,
Eben and Charles Hale, Nathaniel
Greeley, the Johnsons, Greenleafs,
Stones, Noyes, Balches, of Newbury-
port, Joseph Balch of Belleville, Jo-
seph T. Pike, David, Abner and Jeny,
sons of Abuer Wood, William and
George, sons of the widow Wood,
were prominent among the rising
young men. George Wood after-
wards became a well known author.
Besides these ja number of our young
men were engaged in business in for-
eign ports, or as masters or supercar-
goes of ships ; amongst these were
Capt. Nathaniel Jackson, Captains
John and Benjamin Harrod, Capt.
Green Sanborn, and Capt. Richards.

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

Capt. Nathaniel Jackson had just
brought home his lovely wife. This
lad}', her infant son, and his Swedish
nurse, clad in the costume of her
country, attracted much attention.
Mr. and Mrs. John Dean and Jacob
W. Pierce and wife were young, married
people. Nicholas Johnson had re-
cently led to the alter Miss Sarah, old-
est daughter of Mr. Anthony Daven-
port. John and William Smith had
just established their brides in their
elegant homes. These ladies with
Mrs. Tom Thomas, Mrs. Thomas
Hooper, who was a daughter of Judge
Bradbury, Miss Ann Jackson, Mr.
Leonard Smith's niece, Hitty Smith,
and his daughter Sarah, were the
acknowledged queens of society.

The three daughters of Dr. Smith
of Mount Rural, Miss Mary, Hannah,
Judith, and Caroline Little, and the six
daughters of Mr. John Balch of Belle-
ville, Mr. Joseph Williams' only daugh-
ter Caroline, Mr. John Tracy's daugh-
ters Margaret, Mary, Elizabeth and
Catharine, the daughters of the late
Nathaniel Tracy, Louisa and Helen,
Miss Sukey Fowle, and Miss Sally
Cutler, Mr. Daniel Balch's daughters,
the Misses Searle, Harrod, Frothing-
ham, Johnson, White, Wheelwright,
Marquand, Davenport, Stocker, Faris,
Greenleaf, Wood and Pierce, Miss Sa-
rah Hale, Maj. David! Coffin's only
daughter Mary, Mr. Moses Brown's
only daughter Mary, Miss Margaret
Andrews, the Misses Giles, Miss Mary
Ann Oxnard, Hannah Bartlett, Betsey
Lawrence, Martha, Sally and Katie
Caldwell, and their cousin Sally Cald-
well, Sophronia Peabody and her cous-
in Sophia, the youngest daughter of
Leonard Smith were the most promi-
nent belles. Miss Lydia Osgood, the

youngest daughter of Deacon Osgood
of the upper parish Newbury, was a
general favorite in this circle ; no fes-
tivity was complete without her.

Miss Ann Thaxter, a step daughter
of Joshua Carter, had been married a
short time previous to Nathaniel Par-
sons of Boston. In his visits to his fi-
ancee Mr. Parsons created a sensation
in the neighborhood, as he dashed to
the door, in his coach and four, with a
darkey in livery holding the ribbons,
and the splendor of the wedding was
long remembered. After the bride had
become settled in her city home, her
two intimate friends, Mary Brown and
Sophronia Peabody, paid her a visit.
The house, which was near Bowdoin
square, was a large brick structure ; a
gateway led through a paved court to a
spacious stable. Over this gateway
from an arched iron railing was suspen-
ed a square glass lantern. This was cus-
tomary at that period, at the better
class mansions. The interior of the
house was magnificent both in propor-
tion and finish. Mirrors were inserted
in the drawing room doors to enhance
the effect. The furniture had been im-
ported expressly for the house, it was
both rich and stylish ; glittering chan-
deliers, and other ornaments embel-
lished the rooms ; the silken canopy to
the bed in the guest chamber, was
gathered around an oval mirror set in
the centre of the arched top. The
whole mansion was resplendent with
French luxury and novel elegance.

The first class .dwellings of New-
buryport, were mostly square struct-
ures, three stories in height, or of two
stories with dormer windows in the
roof ; some were gambrel roofed houses.
There were generally four rooms on
the lower floor, a spacious hall from

244

EEMIXISOEXCES

which a flight of broad, low stairs, with
elaborate^ carved balusters led to the
story above. Usually an L was at-
tached for an outer kitchen, and a
court yard, frequently flagged, led to a
stable beyond. Gardens were attached
to most residences, those on the upper
side of High street usually had exten-
sive grounds. The heavj- claw-footed
furniture of a previous date had been
followed by lighter, in the French
style. Stiff looking, slender legged
chairs and sofas were primly ranged
round the room, with card table to
match in the piers ; these sometimes
had marble tops. Above them hung
large Dutch mirrors. Often the walls
were adorned with one or more family
portraits ; these though not Coply's
were usually good pictures. The
French Revolution had sent many ref-
ugees to our shores who had been com-
pelled to turn their talents and accom-
plishments to account. Mr. Moses
Cole painted fine portraits, and he was
well patronized by his townsmen. An
engraving of the Washington family
was a favorite picture that could have
been seen in mam' houses. Carpets
had come much more generally into
use. The Turkey carpets bordered
and fringed had given place to those
from English looms, though Turkej*
rugs were still highly esteemed. Very
pretty carpets in striped patterns of
home construction had become fashion-
able, and those from rags for common
use were often seen.

The dining or sitting room almost
invariably held a large mahogony side-
board. Beneath generall}- stood an or-
namental liquor case, and upon the top
were some half dozen cut-glass decan-
ters filled with wine, brandy and other
liquors ; these were flanked by trays of

wine glasses and tumblers. The old
fashioned silver tankard had become
obsolete, but a display of silver tumb-
lers was considered desirable. The
chambers were still furnished with
hangings to the bedsteads, but bureaus
had supplanted, the case of drawers.
In mam T mansions stairs led from the
china closet to a private cellar, which
usually was well stocked with choice
wines and liquors. Our foreign trade
gave facility for obtaining the best
brands ; few families were without a
larger or smaller suppl}". Cider was
put in the common cellar and used as
freely as water. On one occasion Mr.
Nathaniel Tracy caught his negro serv-
ing man carousing with a brother darkey
in the wine cellar, drinking "to better
times" from a silver goblet brimming
with choice old Bordeaux. Chaises
were now in general use ; there were a
few barouches ; four-wheeled wagons
were superseding the two-wheeled
spring cart. Coaches drawn by two
horses, sometimes four, were the fash-
ionable equipage ; several were kept
by families in the town.

The attire fashionable for a gentle-
man at that period was similar to that
I have described as worn by Tom Ca-
rey. Small clothes were still stylish
for evening parties and balls. The
French mode prevailed in the costume
of the ladies. Short, scant ruffled
skirts, short waists ; for }"oung ladies
short sleeves, and low necks, especially
so in the bosom ; an under handker-
chief fitted so neatly it was scarcely
discernable, and tuckers finished the
neck. Long gloves, sashes, and a
great variety of ornaments were worn
in full dress. The hair was worn high,
often the back hair having been divid-
ed, half fell in curls on the neck while

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

24:5

the remainder was wound round the
comb ; at other times it was wholly
braided and twisted into a crown upon
the head, the front hair clustered in
short curls over the forehead or on the
temples. The elder ladies wore vari-
ously fashioned caps and turbans. Ear
jewels were universal!} 7 worn. The
strings of gold beads so general in my
mother's girlhood were then deemed
old-fashioned ; necklaces and chains
had taken their place ; often a minia-
ture painted on ivory set in gold was
worn on the chain. Both my Aunt
Peabody and Bartlett had good like-
nesses of their husbands, which were
fine paintings. Brooches, bracelets and
rings were of various patterns, some
exceedingly elegant in design. Rich
thread laces were much in demand, and
linen cambric. The gentlemen's shirt
bosoms were ruffled with this fabric.
Silk bonnets were worn, but straw was
the style. A black satin cloak with
cape and sleeves was the usual out-
doors garment for older ladies, for the
younger, silk pelisses in fancy colors
were fashionable ; both reached below
the knee and were finished by a trim-
ming of black lace. Long cloth wrap-
pers were made for common wear.
White dresses were worn entirely by
3'oung ladies when in full dress, and
usually on Sunda}'s. However cold
the weather or wet the walking a white
cambric, with a green, blue, or lilac
silk pelisse, a straw bonnet trimmed to
match, white silk stockings and kid
slippers of the same hue of the pelisse,
or cork soled morocco walking shoes,
with a sable muff and tippet, was the
street dress of a young lady of ton.
Muslins and gauzes over under dresses
of satin, with rich trimmings of lace,
ribbon, spangles, bugles etc., were the

mode for evening attire. Silks were
seldom worn excepting by older ladies,
and woolen fabrics were only admissi-
ble for home wear. A deal of fun was
made of Mr. John Balch's daughters,
because their mother very sensibly com-
pelled them to wear crimson bomba-
zette dresses to a party one snapping
winter night, with the thermometer be-
low zero. On pleasant days fashiona-
ble ladies devoted the morning to call-
ing or receiving visitors. Cake and
wine were invariably handed to the
guest.

One o'clock was the dinner hour for
all classes. At the first stroke of the
bells of the Pleasant and Federal street
churches the streets were filled with a
hungry throng rushing homeward.
There was little ceremonious visiting of
an afternoon, unless invitations had
been issued for a tea party. At these
the ladies assembled from four to five
o'clock, Tea was served at six.

In most families there was a boy or
girl bound to service until the age of
eighteen. When the hour arrived this
young servant passed round napkins
upon a salver ; next a man or maid
servant bore round the tray of cups,
the younger waiter following with the
cream and sugar. Bread and butter
and cake succeeded, these were passed
round two or three times, and the
younger servant stood, salver in hand,
ready to take the cups to be replen-
ished. If the gentlemen came to tea,
and this was the only refreshment,
sliced ham or tongue were usually add-
ed, but often there would be a hot meat
supper at nine or ten o'clock. This
was a customary meal in many fami-
lies. In Mr. Leonard Smith's family
it was as regular as either of those dur-
ing the day. As both my aunts con-

246

REMINISCENCES

sidered the practice unhealthy it was
never introduced into their households.
Dinner parties were common, when the
table would be loaded with luxuries.
After the dessert the ladies retired to
the parlor for an hour's gossip, while
the gentlemen sipped wine, smoked
long Dutch pipes and discussed the af-
fairs of the nation The ladies having
been rejoined in the drawing room cof-
fee was passed. These parties were
often the scene of much conviviality,
but "being a little after dinnerish"
it was considered a slight matter, and
any escapade in consequence was
wholly overlooked. In 1780 the Mar-
quis de Chastellux, the Vicornte do Vau-
dreuil, M. de Tale}-rand and M. de
Montesquieu visited Newburyport ;
they came from Portsmouth over the
Merrimac Ferry and stopped at the
"Wolfe Tavern." These foreigners
had a letter of introduction to Mr. John
Tracy, but before it was delivered Mr.
Tracy and Col. Wigglesworth called to
invite them to pass the evening with
Mr. Tracy. I copy the account of this
visit from a description written by the
Marquis de Chastellux, as it is a per-
fect picture of the tone of society at
that time and for a long period after.
M. de Chastellux writes, "This Colonel
remained with me till Mr. Trac}" fin-
ished his business, when he came with
two handsome carriages, well equipped,
and conducted me and my aide-de-
Camps to his country house." (This
was the mansion on High street above
the former Dexter house.) "This is
in a very beautiful situation, but of this
I could myself form no judgment, as it
was already night. I went, however,
by moonlight to see the garden, which
is composed of different terraces. There
is likewise a hothouse and a number of

j-oung trees. The house is handsome
and well finished, and everything
breathes that air of magnificence ac-
companied with simplicity, which is
only to be found among merchants.
The evening passed rapidly by the aid
of agreeable conversation and a few
glasses of punch. The ladies we found
assembled were Mrs. Tracy, her two
sisters, and their cousin Miss Lee.
Mrs. Tracy has an agreeable and sen-
sible countenance, and her manners
correspond with her appearance. At
ten o'clock an excellent supper was
served. We drank good wine, Miss
Lee sung, and prevailed upon Messrs.
de Vaudreuil and Talej'rand to sing
also. Towards midnight the ladies
withdrew, but we continued drinking
Madeira and Xeiy. Mr. Tracy, ac-
cording to the custom of the county,
offered us pipes, which were accepted
by M. de Taleyrand and M. de Mon-
tesquieu, the consequence of which was
that they became intoxicated and were
led home, where they were happy to get
to bed. As to m} T self, I remained per-
fectly cool, and continued to converse
on trade and politics with Mr. Tracy."

In addition to the entertainments I
have described were evening parties
and balls. These parties were often
large, and music was usually provided
for dancing, with a choice and elegant
treat. Sillabub at an earlier day had
been a fashionable evening beverage.
There were sillabub tables, small,
square, four-legged ones, with a narrow
ledge running round the sides, on
which were placed the glass sillabub
bowl andFadle, the mixture, which con-
sisted of milk, wine or cider, sugar and
spice, being dipped into tall, slender
stemmed glasses. The introduction of
tea brought sillabub into disuse. Ices

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

247

had not then become general. Cream
whipped to a froth, sweetened and
flavored, was much favored. Served
in glasses it looked very pretty, and
''whips" were the one genteel thing for
an evening soiree. Jellies, various
cakes, fruit, wines and hot punch were
the usual additional refreshments.

The old Tabernacle upon whose
floor the stately minuet of a preceding
generation had been danced had given
place to the new Washington Hall on
Green street, which had a spring floor,
considered especially excellent for danc-
ing. It was reached by two flights of
stairs leading from the lower entry to
the one above ; two ante rooms opened
into this, from which doors led to the
hall, which was lofty and spacious.
Large windows draped with red faced
on either side ; at the upper end was a
gallery for musicians ; opposite were
two fireplaces where huge logs crackled
and sparkled. Round the sides was a
platform, slightly raised above the
spring floor, upon which stood rows of
yellow wooden settees. Two glittering
chandeliers were suspended from the
ceiling. Upon the mantels and orches-
tra stood glass candelabra and candle-
sticks.

Here during the winter a series of
monthly assemblies were held, at which
the young people danced contra dances,
four-handed and eight-handed reels,
while their elders amused themselves
at the card tables spread in the ante
rooms. A black waiting maid, and
two or three sable male waiters were in
attendance. The refreshments were
similar to those at the parties.

It was expected the morning after a
party or ball that the gentlemen should
call upon their fair partners to inquire
respecting their health. It was com-

mon for them to drop in of an evening
socially. Sam L. Knapp rendered him-
self especially welcome, and Tom Ca-
rey's varied information and fine voice
fitted him for a most entertaining com-
panion. Singing was a universal ac-
complishment. In a few houses a spinet
or harpsichord could be found, but as
yet there were but four pianos in the
town. These belonged to the daugh-
ters of Parson Giles, Miss Mary Coffin,
Miss Catharine Davenport and Miss
Sophronia Peabody. A French refu-
gee, formerly a nobleman, whose name
I cannot recall, came from Boston once
in two weeks to give these 3'oung la-
dies lessons.

The organs in St. Paul's and the
Pleasant street church were played bv
Mr. Daniel Bay ley and William Wood,
the brother of the author, George
Wood.

The pianos were small, slender-
legged, tinkling instruments, imported
from Paris. The music was love songs,
dancing tunes, etc., "Hail Columbia,"
"Yankee Doodle," the old revolution-
ary song, "Why should vain mortals
tremble at the sight of death and de-
struction on the field of battle," "Moll
Brooks," "What can the matter be,"
"The Campbells are coming," and the
duet "Shepherds have you seen my
Flora pass this way?" were favorites.
I copy an ode entitled "Freedom's An-
niversary," from a music book published
in 1808 :

"This day fires our minds,

This day fires our minds,

This day fires our minus

With a flame as arose,

When our sires drew the steel,

Which laid prostrate our foes,

With mirth inspiring lay,

We'll celebrate the day,
Till the orbs cease to roll or the earth melts

away.

248

KEMTSTISCEXCES

Brave heroes who fought,
Brave heroes who fought,
Brave heroes who fought,
And have labored to crown

Columbia's rich fields in the pride of renown,

From your station on high one moment look
down

On myriads of wretches that grovel around ;

To Afric's broad zone turn the wings of the
mind,

Traverse regions unknown and nations un-
named,

Or fly to famed Asia and there you will hear,

Oppression's loud clangor, hoarse grating the
ear;

Or haste to proud Europe, her regions ex-
plore ;

Mark the myriads that starve, yet kings they
adore ;

Disgusted with tyrants, disgusted with
slaves,

Extend fancy's pinions and mount o'er the
waves,

To your own native clime, for there you may
find

The wisest and happiest of all human kind.

Thus highly exalted, ne'er cease to adore

The God of the skies, and his mercies im-
plore.

This day fires our minds,
This day fires our minds,
This day fires our minds
With a flame as arose
When our sires drew the steel
Which laid prostrate our foes,
With mirth inspiring lay,
We'll celebrate the day,

Till the orbs cease to roll or the earth melts

away."
There is a Thanksgiving anthem :

"Sing aloud to God our strength,

Sing aloud to God our strength,

Sing aloud to God our strength, to God our
strength,

Make a joyful noise to him with psalms, to
him with psalms, to him with psalms, to
him with psalms,

Praise the Lord all ye nations, praise him,

praise him. praise him all ye people.
For his mercies are great, his mercies are
great.

We will rejoice and give thanks, will rejoice
and give thanks, will rejoice and give
thanks, will rejoice and give thanks.

Let us come before his presence, before his
presence, before his presence, with
thanksgiving, with thanksgiving, with
thanksgiving, with thanksgiving, and en-
ter his courts with praise.

Thou, O Lord, hast crowned the year with
goodness, with goodness, with goodness.

The pastures are covered o'er with flocks,

The vallies are also covered o'er with corn,

The vallies are also covered o'er with corn.

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujar, hallelujah,
hallelujah, amen.

Hallelujah, amen, amen, hallelujah, hallelu-
jah, amen, amen."

CHAPTER XLVIII.

For some years an orphan asylum
had been established where some half
dozen girls were reared and instructed,
until of an age to become bound to ser-
vice in some family, there to remain
until eighteen. This institution was lo-
cated on Federal street, and at that
time was under the supervision of Mrs.
Joanna Akerman. The orphans were
dressed in uniform. On Sunda}-, head-
ed by the matron, they demurely
walked two and two, in procession, to
the Old South meetinghouse, where a
pew in the gallery was appropriated to
their use.

That spring, to the horror of the
more rigid, two dancing schools were
opened, one by Mr. Ingalls, at Union
Hall, the other by Mr. Nichols, who
"gave lessons as taught by the cele-
brated Italian master, Mr. Dochoun.
Gentlemen desirous of practising the
small sword, cut and thrust, broad
sword, and a powerful defence with the
cane," were desired to leave their
names at the bookstore of Thomas &
W hippie. A convenient bathing house

OF A ISTOXAGENAKIAN.

249

was also established on Water street,
above Market square.

At this time two newspapers were
supported in Newburyport, "The Her-
ald," which was the Federalist organ,
and the "Statesman," Democratic. A
large circulating library was well pat-
ronized, and there were several good
private libraries in the town. These
were anxious times, and the news from
Europe was impatiently awaited . Buon-
aparte was in the midst of his career,
his progress was eagerly watched, and
the accounts of his success were read
with wonder and avidity. Byron and
Scott had begun to enchant the world.
"Elizabeth, or the Exile of Siberia,"
was the new novel which every one was
perusing.

In speaking of the business of the
town I omitted the truckmen, compris-
ing a tall, stalwart band of men, who
in their long white frocks, made a good-
ly show in Fourth of July and other
civic processions. Sometimes of an af-
ternoon, when the business for the day
was over, they would drive in a line
through the streets, their fine horses,
and long, tilting, clattering trucks
noisily breaking the quiet monotony.
In the winter, on their sleds, in this
way, they frequently volunteered to aid
in breaking the paths. In addition to
these drays a large business was done
by ox teams, one or more pair of oxen
yoked to a two-wheeled cart. Mr.
Nathaniel Bricket, Mr. Samuel Wheel-
er and Mr. Charles Chase were noted
teamsters.

Back of the Pond stood a collection
of low, unpainted huts. This village
was st3'led "Guinea." Here were the
homes of the colored population, of
which there was quite a number.
These were mostly descendants of ser-

vants formerly held as slaves in our
first households. Many considering
themselves as still connected with the
old master's family, in any emergency
always looked to it for advice, care and
consideration.

In those days of huge wood fires, it
was no uncommon thing for the burn-
ing of a chimnej 7 to endanger a whole
neighborhood. A law was enacted that
every chimney should be swept once a
year. Lilly White, a tall, lithe negro,
was the principal sweep, followed by
his little apprentice boy bearing a bag
of clothes. Lilly perambulated the
streets, brandishing his brooms and cry-
ing:

"Lilly White has come to town,
To sweep the chimney tip and down,
If he does not sweep them clean
He shall not have his pistareen."

Clement Paul, a genteel waiter, was
a favorite in the upper circles. Joe
Fatal, Col. Greenleafs darky, Old
Cambridge, who could remember being
kidnapped when a child and brought to
this country in a slave vessel, Jimmy
,Paul, Sip Burnham and others were
useful members of society, and respect-
ed citizens. Many colored women did
washing, and black Luce was a famous
nurse. Old Luce Pero, a beggar tramp,
generally accompanied by one or more
children, was the horror of the more in-
fantile population ; the threat "old Luce
Pero will catch you," was sufficient to
quell the most turbulent urchin. Co-
burn had a remarkably aristocratic dar-
key employed in his hotel. Much ad-
miring a pair of boots which Ebenezer
Mosely, esq., had purchased, the negro
waiter strutted into the store of Os-
good & Brackett, and with a pompous
air ordered a similar pair, adding, much
to the amusement of Messrs. Osgood

250

KEMENISCEXCES

& Brackett, "Let 'em be jes like
Squire Moseley's, only a quarter dollar
better"

No fish market had been established,
fresh fish was vended about the streets
in wheelbarrows. Clams in the shell
were sold ; none were then shucked.
Sometimes the "Algeiines" from Sea-
brook peddled about boiled clams taken
from the shell, but clams were regarded
as a plebeian dish, from which many
persons turned in disgust. The chief
fishmongers were Flood, and Jim Ball.

The famous witch of the town was a
woman known as Madame Hooper.
Her earl}' history has remained a mys-
tery. She came to Newbuiy about
1760, and for a time was the dame of
a school at the south end ; afterward
she became a famous fortune teller,
rivalling in celebrity Moll Pitcher of
Lynn ; her home on Cottle's Lane being
visited by persons of all ages and class-
es from near and afar. In person
Madam Hooper was short and stout,
with a strong^ marked countenance,
glittering gray eyes, and a full set of
double teeth ; her appearance was that
of one born and bred in good society,
though from the first a peculiarity had
been evinced in her demeanor which in-
creased with years. She was well ed-
ucated and accomplished, and brought
\ with her on coming to town, a very ex-
tensive and handsome wardrobe, rich
brocades and the like, which were worn
without remodelling to the end of her
long life. These antique garments,
with a unique bonnet of her own fash-
ion, combined with an oracular, sibyllic
manner 4 were calculated to inspire cred-
ulous people with the awe and wonder
which she coveted. Children ran at her
approach, and their elders from fear of
the "evil eye" were lavish in courtesy.

Thus the witch carried matters with a
high hand, visiting where she chose,
generally acting her own pleasure with-
out much regard to the wishes or con-
venience of others, few venturing to
cross one whom so man}' considered as
possessing supernatural powers. This
reputation was artfully sustained . Often
her visitors were received in impur-
turbable silence, but when an answer
was vouchsafed it usually was verified.
This foresight and sagacity succeeded
in securing dupes for man}- years. She
kept a pet fowl, black in plumage, with
a clipped bill and claws, which was re-
gnrded as her "familiar." Madame
Hooper lived to an advanced age. but
at length died in poverty and degrada-
tion, unmourned butnot unremembered.
Her name had become a household
word, which has been handed down
through 'the generations as one of the
marvels of the past. Perhaps if the
secrets of her life could be unmasked
we should pity rather than condemn.
Billy Watkins was a somewhat eccen-
tric individual, who owned a large es-
tate on Water street. Foony Gerrish,
a wig maker, often became the jest of
the populace. Though illiterate, he
evinced a desire to rank amongst the
educated. On one occasion a person
in the bar room of the "Wolfe Tavern"
perceiving him seemingly intent upon
perusing a newspaper which was held
bottom upward, inquired, "What is the
news, Mr. Gerrish?" "Terrible gales,"
hurriedly returned the old man, "terri-
ble gales, ship.s all bottom upwards."
Wishing to be thought a man of busi-
ness Foouy bought a ledger. That
morning he sold a wig, for which, much
to the purchaser's astonishment, he de-
clined to take payment, "he would
charge it." At night he detained one

OF A

251

of the young clerks in the neighbor-
hood to note it down. Having written
the date the 3"oung man inquired the
name of the debtor. Foony looked
puzzled, scratched his head, he "never
thought to inquire the name," but after
a moment's deliberation he added,
"Never mind, put it down, one wig to
a man that looked like an Amesbury
man." Whether Foony received the
price of the wig from this dubiously
described individual I am unable to
state.

Another notoriety was ' 'Bumble Bee
Titcomb," a carpenter by trade. While
at work at his bench a bumblebee light-
ed near his hand. Mr. Titcomb raised
his hatchet, ejaculating, "Now, old fel-
low, your end has come ! Say your
prayers, for death is nigh. One, two,
three strike !" Down went the hatch-
et, cutting off the end of Mr. Titcomb's
thumb, while the bumblebee, having
flown up and stung the end of his nose,
buzzed exultantly away through the
open door. Ever after the carpenter
was known th.oughout the town as
"Bumble Bee Titcomb."

Another of the celebrities of the
town was Mr. Enoch Toppan, common-
ly called "Rhymer Toppan," as he was
never at a loss for a rhyme. One day,
at the market house, Mr. James Ca-
rey and Mr. Richard Adams laid a
wager respecting Mr. Toppan's instant-
ly returning an answer in rhyme. Mr.
Toppan was across the square. From
the steps of the market house Mr.
Carej- sang out, "Mr. Toppan, so they
say, bu3 r s his meat and never'll pa}-."
To which was responded, "Jimmy Ca-
rey, if that be true, I'll always have
my meat of j'ou." Mr. Carey was
obliged to "stand treat."

For years the chief wonder of the

place was Lord Timothy Dexter, his
hairless dog and his images. This man
was born in Maiden in 1743. He came
to Newburyport in early manhood and
married a Miss Frothingham, from the
old Frothingham mansion on the corner
of High and Olive street. In a short
time he obtained a large fortune by tak-
ing advantage of the markets and by
lucky adventures. His first successful
speculation was buj'ing up continental
notes when depreciated, and selling
them when a prospect of redemption
had raised their value. His specula-
tions in mittens, warming-pans, whale-
bone and the like, are widely known.
Though ignorant and illiterate, and
doubtless somewhat indebted to luck
for his good fortune, still it is evident
the man was both shrewd and saga-
cious. His vanity was inordinate.
Under any circumstances it is probable
he would have proved an eccentricity,
still, such were the convivial habits of
the period, and constantly surrounded
as he was, by a band of sycophantic
boon C9mpanions, who spurred him on
to all sorts of ridiculous sayings and
doings, one can scarcely judge what the
character of the man would have been
under the teetotal regime of Neal Dow.
Having bought the fine Jackson man-
sion on High street, nearly opposite his
wife's maiden home, he began to beau-
tify it after his own design. Mr. James
Wilson was a carver of figure heads of
ships. Dexter conceived the idea of
employing Mr. Wilson to embellish his
house and grounds with wooden statues.
These figures were remarkable speci-
mens in wood carving. In this work
Mr. Wilson displayed the power of a
sculptor ; it is a pity he never aspired
to works of greater durability. The
figures of Washington, Adams and Jef-

252

REMTSTISCEXCES

ferson, over the front door, were excel-
lent, and the other figures, the eagle
upon the cupola, and the animals, were
life-like and in good proportion. Dex-
ter built a tomb in the garden ; on its
completion he got up a mock funeral,
had his wife and family arrayed in
mourning, acted his part as corpse, and
was borne to the sepulchre with due
funeral rites. After his resurrection
and return to the house he beat his wife
because she did not weep while follow-
ing him to the grave. He kept a per-
son in his house named Jonathan
Plumrner, who stj'led himself "physi-
cian, preacher, and poet laureate, to
his excellence- Timothy Dexter, Earl of
Chester, and Knight of the two open-
mouthed lions." In those daj'S it was
the practice to send notes to be read at
public worship before the long prayer,
requesting suitable petitions in time of
affliction, or on occasions of joy. Be-
low is a note sent b}- the poet laureate,
and read in his pulpit b}- the Rev.
Charles Milton :

"Jonathan Plummer jr., de.sires to
return thanks to the transcendently po-
tent controler of the universe, for his
marvellous kindness to him in raising
him from a desperately low and peril-
ous indisposition, to such a measure of
strength and health that he is again
able with gladness of heart and trans-
porting rapture of mind, to wait at the
celestial portals of wisdom. The said
Plummer also desires to give thanks to
Alpha and Omega, the first and the last,
the beginning and the end, for his as-
tonishing favor, his captivating mercy,
and his personal regard to him in
snatching him from endless grief and
everlasting woe, in a miraculous man-
ner ; by light in dreams; for causing'
the day to dawn in his heart, and the

da3 T spriug from on high to illuminate
his dark and benighted understanding ;
for chasing far from him the gloomy fog
of infidelity, and enabling him triumph-
antly to rejoice in the glorious light and
liberty of the Gospel, wherein his bless-
ed Redeemer has crowned his happy
life."

The Rev. Parson Milton's response
to these requests was, "O Lord, have
mercy on this over-pompous brother,
whose wordy rhetoric has just startled
our ears ; save us from cant, bombast,
and all the wiles of the devil. Amen."

I copy a document of Plumrner's,
headed "The Author's Last Will and
Testament." "Preparatory Address
to the Readers. Ladies and Gentle-
men : At the request of a number of
worth}* friends, I now furnish you with
my last will and testament. You will
doubtless think it a very singular pro-
duction, and you will think right ; for,
excepting a few lines in the beginning,
which are partly borrowed from the last
will of a celebrated writer, and the last
paragraph, which is taken from Fisher,
I believe nothing like it has ever been
published or written.

But the will is not more singular than
the usage which occasioned it. What
this usage was I shall not now under-
take to disclose, for to do justice to the
subject would I believe require a con-
siderable number of volumes ; and be-
sides, my abilities are inadequate, vast-
ly inadequate to the ponderous task.
Was the celebrated Cicero again per-
mitted to live in our world I fane}- he
might talk day and night on the sub-
ject, might entirely exhaust his une-
qualed eloquence, might move earth
and perhaps Heaven, to pity, to com-
miseration, and to tears, and perhaps
not half disclose the affecting scene,

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

253

not half display the inexpressible an-
guish with which the barbarous treat-
ment of a certain man has oppi'essed
my tender soul.

The resentment which I now displa}"
is not the effect of any sudden and un-
reasonable gust of passion. I have
long dispassionately considered the sub-
ject, and the influence of religion, of
justice, of duty to parents, of good
breeding, and of every other incentive
to moderation, foil}' only excepted, has
been in this case eagerly sought after,
listened to, and properly regarded
by me.

I, Jonathan Plummer jr., of New-
bury, in the Commonwealth of Massa-
chusetts, seriously considering the un-
certaintj' of human life, do, while in a
sound state of mind, and in tolerable
bodily health, make this my last will
and testament ; being determined to
dispose of all my earthly property, not
as custom may prompt, but as justice
and equity seem to direct. I most hum-
bly recommend my soul to the exten-
sive mercy of that supreme, eternal, in-
telligent Being, who gave it me ; at the
same, time most earnestly deprecating
his justice. If I die in Newbury or in
any place within twenty miles of it, I
desire to be buried in the burying
ground which is near the meeting house,
of the first parish in this town, and that
I may be carried to the grave from my
own apartment. Should my father, or
any, or either of my brothers have the
hypocrisy to follow me in mourning, or
to walk between my coffin and the other
people who happen to attend my fu-
neral, I desire m}- executor to endeavor
to prevent their so doing. Should my
mammy and my oldest sister outlive
me, 1 desire them to walk next to my
coffin dressed in , decent customar

mourning, and as many of the ladies
whose names I shall mention in this
will, as happen to attend my funeral, to
follow them, but not in mourning. As
the usage I have received from my
father and brothers has given me tor-
tures which no tongue can express, I
do not mean that they shall be much
the better for my property which I may
happen to leave in this world. But,
nevertheless, as my father happened
somehow or other, when he first made
a will, so far to forget his enmity as to
bequeath me about a thirtieth part of
what he was then worth, as a grateful
return for this almost miraculous favor,
I give and bequeath to him the sum of
seventeen shillings ; which is not far
from a thirtieth part of what I was pos-
sessed of when I for the first tune com-
mitted a will to writing. As something
influenced my father to order the sum
which he bequeathed me to be handed
to me in ten annual payments, his con-
duct influences me to treat him in the
same manner. I desire my executor to
pay him the above seventeen shillings
in ten different yearly payments. One
shilling, eight pence, one farthing and
a half yearly, the first nine years after
my death, and the tenth year one shil-
ling, eight pence, two farthings and a
half. But should my father die before
he has received all which I bequeath
him in this manner, it is my will that
my executor keep what remains in his
hands of the seventeen shillings at the
time of my father's death, for his own
proper use and benefit. This is all the
money whiqh I can conscientiously give
my father, but at the same time I wish
him riches more durable, more inestim-
ably valuable than gold. I wish him
that precious light of Christ which once
partly illumined his now (in my opin-

254

REMINISCENCES

ion) benighted understanding. I wish
him, and was it in my power, I would
bequeath him such a portion of the
blood of the meek and lowly Redeem-
er, as would wash him from all sin, en-
able him to face me at the bar of the
righteous judge at the great day, and
rescue him from those torments which
the abuse which I have received from
him so amply and so eternally deserves.
My mamma having used me as a son, I
should be glad to leave all the rest of
my property to her, if it was not nearly
the same thing as leaving it to nry fath-
er and brothers ; but her interest is so
nearly connected with theirs, and the
good which I have received from her
has been so many hundred times coun-
terbalanced by the evil treatment which
I have received from them, that I can-
not conscientiously reward her kind-
ness any farther than by giving her a
share in common with the rest of the
ladies mentioned in this will.

It is my will that my executor, soon
after my decease, convert all my real
and personal estate into read}* money.
That he shall collect what happens to
be due me, and sell all my property,
of whatever kind it happens to be, by
public auction or private sale, one or
both, as he shall think proper ; and that
after deducting the aforesaid legacy of
seventeen shillings, paying all my just
debts, and taking pay for his own time,
trouble and expense, and what time,
trouble and expense he shall then ex-
pect to be incumbered with as executor
to this my last will and testament. After
doing this I say, it is my will that he
soon after equally divide all the remain-
ing part of my money among the fol-
lowing amiable ladies, as many of them
I mean as happen at that time to be
alive, viz : My mamma, Miss Anna

Bayley, the two oldest daughters that
are not now married, of Capt. Jonathan
Poor, Misses Judea Plummer and Han-
nah Plummer, daughters of Mr. Jere-
miah Plummer ; Misses Else Adams,
Rhoda Plummer, Rebekah Xoyes. Mar-
garet Robinson, Mary Hook, Charlotte
Ilsle^', Jemima Knight, Hannah Adams,
daughter of the late Mr. Richard Ad-
ams deceased, Ruth Short, daughter of
Mr. James Short jr., Eunice Pearson,
Mary Xoyes, and the very amiable Sa-
rah Little, daughter of Mr. Richard
Little , the transcendently amiable
Misses Else Tucker, Mary Tucker,
Elizabeth Tucker, Charlotte Tucker,
Clarissa Tucker, Catharine Tucker and
Hannah Tracy ; the handsome Mrs.
Mary Xoyes, widow of the late Capt.
John Xo}"es deceased, and the bloom-
ing widow Huldah Xoyes the consort
of Mr. William Stickue}* ; the consort
of Mr. John Holland, and the consort
of Mr. George Adams of Xewbur}- in
the Commonwealth aforesaid ; Mrs. Ju-
dea Kent and Mrs. Elizabeth Pike,
spotless widows ; the transcendently
lovely Mrs. Lydia St. Barb, Abigail
Cutler, Hannah Boardman, Sarah "\Vig-
glesworth and Katherine Wigglesworth ;
the eminently amiable Misses Mary
Barber, Elizabeth Greenleaf, daughter
of Mr. Abner Greenleaf; Lucy Lunt,
Sarah Smith, Catharine Murray, Eliza-
beth Ingalls, Maria Ingalls, Mary
Moulton, Maiy Sweat, Eunice Sawyer,
Abigail Boardman. Sarah Couch, Anna
Couch, Anna Dodge, Isabella Thomp-
son, Lydia Thompson, Hannah Xoyes,
Jane Xoj'es, Sarah Alexander. Mary
Alexander, Mary Moody. Sarah Mood}*,
daughters of Mr. Benjamin Moody of
Xewburyport, in the Commonwealth
aforesaid ; Mrs. Eleanor Weeks of
Candia in Chester, and Miss Elizabeth

OP A

255

Plumer of Exeter, in the state of New
Hampshire.

I meant to write the aforesaid list of
names for certain reasons, without any
epithets denoting the qualities of the
ladies, but it is very difficult for me to
speak about such heavenly lassies with-
out these epithets, and I doubt whether
even the pope or his nuncio, if he knew
them as well as I do, could go through
the task which I meant to perform.
Had I allowed free scope to my inclina-
tion I should have added a shining ep-
ithet to each of the respected names,
nor should I then have done more than
each of the lovely ladies deserve from
my pen. I am sensible that the total
sum of my. fortune is but trifling, but I
hope to make a considerable addition
to it, and should I die without being
married, I mean that the aforesaid
ladies shall have all that I leave
after seventeen shillings are deducted
from it, be it more or less. The}' saw
me afflicted and tormented by a man
from whom I might naturally expect
better usage ; and while I believe this
man was laboring to destroy my char-
acter and retard my fortune, with en-
mity more abusive than death, more
cruel than the grave ; when I was
warmly contending with poverty, rags
and wretchedness, I received from these
ladies such friendly treatment as ren-
dered my low estate not only tolerable
but in some measure happy, while some
less virtuous ladies seemed to rejoice
at my misfortune, and denied me the
common civilities of life, even the favor
of walking the ground with them.
The above named ladies not only
I'tiiled to imitate them in these respects,
but gave me reason to think that they
wished to see me in better circumstan-
ces. The value of the civilities which

I have received from them is greatly
enhanced when I consider the immense
wisdom and angelic beauty of a great
part, and the captivating amiableness
of the whole number. Considering
these things, I know no bounds that I
ought to set to my gratitude, love and
esteem. Had I ten millions of dollars
to dispose of more than I have, I would
freely will it all to them. I wish them
the most consummate earthly felicity,
and was it in my power to insure them
seats in paradise, I should not eat nor
drink with half the pleasure that I
should take in conveying to them the
most delightful mansions in those
realms of bliss. I think it apparent
from Scripture that departed souls re-
tain a remembrance of the friendly deeds
of their benefactors in this world, and
I confess that I am not without hopes
of being serviceable to those lovely
nymphs in the regions which we shall
inhabit beyond the grave ; even after
ten million times ten million years have
rolled away, I hope to give them fresh
marks of my present unfeigned and
boundless regard.

I make, constitute, ordain and ap-
point Mr. Edmund Knight of this- town,
sole executor to this m}- last will and
testament, hereby renouncing, disallow-
ing and disannulling all former wills,
testaments, executors, legacies or be-
quests by 'me in whatever manner
named, willed bequeathed, hereby rati-
fymg and confirming this and this only
to be my last will and testament. In
testimony whereof I have hereunto set
my hand and seal."

Dexter owned a farm in Chester, and
consequently styled himself Earl of
Chester. He erected handsome build-
ing on this estate, and these were deco-
rated with several images, which were

256

REMINISCENCES

a wonder in that region for a long time.
The poet laureate's description of his
lordship and the Dexter mansion ran in
this wise :

"Lord Dexter was a man of fame,
And celebrated was his name.
His house was white,
And trimmed with green,
And on the top an eagle seen.

Lord Dexter, like King Solomon,
Hath gold and silver by the ton ;
And bells to Qhurches he has given
To worship the great King of Heaven,

Two lions stand to guard the door,
With mouths wide open to devour
All enemies who dare oppose
Lord Dexter or his shady groves.

The images around him stand,
For they were made at his command ;
Looking to see Lord Dexter come,
With fixed eyes they see him home."

Dexter gave the Harris street church
$333.33 to purchase a bell, and a simi-
lar sum was presented to St. Paul's so-
ciety. He evinced a praiseworthy lib-
erality in aiding any f enterprise that
would benefit the town, taking over a
hundred shares in the, Essex Merrimac
bridge. On the Fourth of Jul} 7 follow-
ing its completion he delivered an ora-
tion th'ere, which, sa}*s the Essex Jour-
nal, "For elegance of style, propriety
of speech, and force pf argument was
truly Ciceronian ! !"

Lord Timoth} r also greatly improved
the roads around his mansion. His of-
fer to pave High street, and to build a
brick market house, if the} 7 might bear
his name the town rejected ; but the
two thousand dollars he bequeathed in
his will, "the interest of which he di-
rected the overseers of the poor annu-
ally to distribute to such of the poor of
the town as are the most necessitous,
who are not in the workhouse," was ac-
cepted and acknowledged with gratitude

and thankfulness." Determined to rank
amongst those whose names never die,
Dexter wrote a book entitled "A Pickle
for the Knowing Ones." A sufficiently
original production to obtain its author's
aim. Punctuation was omitted till the
last page, which was closely covered
with the various marks, the readers be-
ing directed "to pepper and salt it as
they pleased."

Dexter died in 1806 and his house
was rented for a tavern. The widow
of his only son, Samuel, and his only
daughter, Mrs. Bishop, boarding with
the landlord's family. As the images
decayed they were removed, but the
three presidents remained over the front
door for many years. As the tomb in
the garden was near the house, it did
not become Lord Timothy's mausole-
um, he was interred with his wife and
son on Bur}*ing Hill, the garden tomb
continuing an object of interest to vis-
itors at the hotel until a comparatively
recent date.

The streets of Newburj-port, though
greatly improved, were often unprovid-
ed with gravelled sidewalks. There
were but few pavements, and those
principal!} 7 before some of the larger
mansions. The bricks were usually
laid side up, some presenting a zig-zag
or herring bone pattern.

Prior to 1800 the town commenced
to plant shade trees. Lombard}' pop-
lars were a favorite avenue tree. The
Boston turnpike had a row on either
side as far out as "Old Maid's Hall,"
and it was common to see three of
these stiff trees before a house, tower-
ing sentinel like on the edge of the side-
walk.

On Merrimac street nearly opposite
Broad, is an ancient house which was
formerly a noted inn, known as "Spauld-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

257

ing's Tavern." The Stone house, on a
farm near the Upper Green, Oldtown,
is another very ancient mansion. This
farm was first owned by Mr. John
Spencer, who sold it to Capt. Daniel
Pierce. Capt. Pierce erected a dwell-
ing of stone, after the style of an old
English manor house. This was the
girlhood home of Martha Pierce, the
mother of my great grandfather John-
son. Afterwards the place was owned
by Mr. Nathaniel Tracy, whose family
resided there some years ; it next be-
came the property of Capt. Offin Board-
man, who built the wooden wing at the
upper end of the house, and the L in
the rear. Capt. Boardman sold the es-
tate to Mr. John Pettingel, and at the
time of which I am writing, it was
known by the name of the Pettingel
Farm. At one time this house, on ac-
count of its safety, was the depot for
the town's powder. One of Mr.
Pierce's negro slaves, having placed a
lighted candle in a keg of powder, blew
out one side of the house, and much
to her consternation lodged herself
amongst the limbs of a large apple tree.
There are many legends connected with
this antique dwelling, which, if its walls
could speak, would man} 7 a tale unfold.
There is a tradition that in the early
days, the males being absent, an Indian
who came with evil intent, was forced
by the females of the family into a chest
in the cellar, where his earthly career
soon closed, and that thereafter his
shade haunted the spot.

Another ancient family residence is
situated in the "Farms District," New-
bur}\ The place originally belonged to
John Hull, who died in 1670. At his
decease it was purchased b}' John, old-
est son of Mr. Nicholas Noyes, who
built the house soon after. The home-

stead has descended from father to son
to the sixth generation. John's son
and grandson were both named Daniel.
Maj. Samuel Noyes and his son Samuel
to Luther, his fourth son. The seventh
generation are in his family, and two of
the eighth have been born there. The
house, a substantial edifice, was built
in a stj r le unusual for a farmhouse in
those early days. The front hall is
wainscotted, and a handsome staircase,
with the elaborately carved balusters
then fashionable for the first-class man-
sions, leads to the second story. The
kitchen fireplace has been reconstructed,
but when built it was huge even for the
period ; an ox could easily have been
roasted whole in its capacious recess.
This house has been the birthplace of
several clergymen, physicians, and oth-
er distinguished persons. Dr. Daniel
Poore's mother was one of the daugh-
ters of the family ; her son was named
for his grandfather, Daniel Noyes. On
this Noyes farm is located one of the
most promising of the newly discovered
Newbury mines.

CHAPTER XLIX.

In the autumn of 1810 Mrs. Moses
Colman was taken ill of a slow fever.
As she would have no one but Sallie to
nurse her, I remained in B3 r field several
weeks. During this time the house-
hold were troubled by a series of mys-
terious and untoward events. Mr.
Colman missed a ten dollar bill from
his desk drawer in a remarkable man-
ner, the hens quitted laying, a cask of
choice cider that had never been
tapped was found empty, and Jerry's

258

REMESTSCEXCES

fine parade horse which was at pasture
on the farm, presented a low and jaded
condition. Jeremiah Colman and Da-
vid Emer}- had been for some time offi-
cers in the troop. At that time Jerry
was captaju and David first lieutenant
of one of the companies forming the
regiment of cavalry. "What could
have happened to Jerry's horse !" His
father said "he looked sorn*." At this
juncture, Charles Field, the colored
boy brought up in the family, now a
youth of twenty, evinced great religious
concern. His state was such that Dr.
Parish was requested to visit him. The
keen witted clergyman, after convers-
ing with Charles, avowed lack of faith
in his professions. "He had seen his
mother in such states. It was his opin-
ion that this show of piety was to cover
some rascality. He had said as much
to the fellow, and bade him ease his
soul b}- confession, and b}' making every
restitution possible." The next day to
my surprise, I discovered the missing
"bank note in Mrs. Column's cap box.
It was immediately ascertained that
Charles had for weeks been riding the
parade horse to Newbmyport, a series
of dances having been held in Guinea
which he had attended. Having hid-
den his Sunday suit in the ha}' mow,
after the family had retired he stole out,
dressing himself in the barn, saddled
and bridled the horse, which had been
stealthily brought up from pasture in
the evening, using the military equip-
ments, then dashed down to Guinea in
grand style, exciting the en\y of his
brother beaux, and the great admira-
tion of the sable belles. The ten dollar
bill was taken to exhibit his grandeur
and that of the family. On moving the
cider cask, preparatory to its being re-
filled the straws with which its contents

had been sucked from the bung were
found with a heap of egg shells, which
explained the former scarcity of eggs.
Charles was brought to confess his mis-
deeds, with many professions of sorrow
and promises of amendment. Such was
the affection felt for 0116 reared in the
famity from infancy, that he found a
ready forgiveness.

A short time after my return from
Byiield I was summoned to town. Col.
Bartlett had at length succumbed to the
disease that had threatened for mam-
years ; he was in a confirmed con-
sumption, confined to his chamber, and
most of the time to his bed.

Four years before, my aunt, who was
childless, had adopted a little girl, and
as she was wholly devoted to her hus-
band, the care of this child and the su-
perintendence of the house devolved
upon me. These were sad but busy
days. Mr. Benjamin Hale was acting
stage agent for Col. Bartlett ; he came
every morning for orders, and through
the day there were more or less callers
concerned for one who was a general
favorite. During the past year alarms
of fire had been frequent : it was evident
some person of evil intent was plotting
mischief. The citizens had become
watchful and solicitous. The stable,
where the next spring the fire com-
menced, had been set on fire two or
three times, but the flames had been ex-
tinguished without an alarm. David
Emery prevented one conflagration with
a bushel measure of water; he had led
his horse to Mr. George's shop, and
was waiting for the men to come from
dinner to shoe him. The street was
quiet. David tied his horse and sat
down to wait ; at that instant he descried
smoke issuing from the window of the
stable opposite. Springing up, he caught

OP A NONAGES ATCIAN-.

259

a bushel measure that stood by the
pump, and filling it ran to the loft
The chamber was empty with the excep-
tion of one corner, where a heap of the
hay chaff had been scraped together
which was burning briskly. Mr. Em-
ery dashed on the water in the measure,
which sufficed to quench the flames.

In February the incendiary was more
successful. One evening in that month,
Mr. Gilman White's crockery store on
State street was burned. About nine
o'clock the bells gave the alarm. I ran
to the front door to ascertain the loca-
tion of the fire. As the latch was lift-
ed I was confronted by David Emery ;
he bore one child in his arms and held
another by the hand. "Here, Sally,"
he hurriedly exclaimed, giving me the
infant, "these are Ann and Charles
Stetson. Gilman White's store is
ablaze, and Mrs. Stetson has gone to
Topsfield. Prince has sent the chil-
dren to you." I took them into the
sitting-room, while Mr. Emery hurried
away. Little Charles did not wake ;
the girl brought Eliza Bartlett's cradle,
at which that young miss, wakened by
the hubbub, made a great ado ; but I
managed to la} T the infant down still
sleeping. Having silenced Eliza, I
placed Ann Stetson, a quiet, pleasant
child, in my bed. The .fire was con-
fined to Mr. White's store. Soon after
midnight Mr. Stetson came and took
Charles home, but Ann remained till
her mother's return .

The third of May, the first circus that
ever visited Newburyport came into
town ; an Italian troop, Messrs. Caye-
tario & Co. A board pavilion was
erected in an unoccupied lot between
Pleasant and Harris streets ; this was
furnished with seats in the pit, which
surrounded the ring ; above was a gal-

lery, with boxes comprising the dress
circle. There was a stand for musi-
cians. The exhibitions were on Mon-
da}-, Wednesday and Friday afternoons ;
the doors opened at half-past three ; the
performance commenced at half-past
four. Tickets to the boxes were one
dollar ; to the pit fifty cents ; children
under ten years of age half price. This
was a most respectable and fine looking
companj', their horses were splendid
animals, all the appurtenances in the
best style. The performance com-
menced by the "Grand Military Man-
O3uvres by Eight Riders." As the com-
pany furnished but six, upon their ar-
rival at the Wolfe Tavern they applied
to Mr. Stetson to fill the cortege. He
referred Cayetano to Samuel Shaw and
David Emery, as two of the best mili-
tary riders in the place. These gentle-
men hesitated respecting joining such a
show, but by the solicitation of friends
their scruples were overruled. The
matter was kept secret ; .only a select
few knew 'of their intention, and the
uniform would prove a perfect disguise. .
Col. Bartlett was so feeble, I hesitated
with regard to accepting Mr. Emery's
invitation to the circus, but my uncle
insisted upon nry going, "he was curi-
ous to hear about it, wished he could
see Sam and David ride, he knew they
ould sit their horses with the best of
them." My plans came near being re-
versed, through the conversation of a
jand of callers on the morning prior to
the Wednesday afternoon performance,
which I had engaged to attend. Little
suspecting that I had any special inter-
st in the play, these pious women in-
voked the wrath of Heaven, and its
most awful judgments upon the com-
Dany and all who should patronize
,hem. "A mean, low set of foreigners,

260

REMESTSCE^CES

their presence was a disgrace to the
town ; they wondered the selectmen
should grant them a permit. No one
of the least respectability would think
of showing themselves in such a place
as this circus." Abashed, I reported
to Uncle Bartlett. He declared the
talk all nonsense, and bade me go.
Finding that my Uncle Peabody and
Sophronia were going and that most
of the elite had purchased tickets, I ven-
tured to dress for the occasion. Mr.
Emery escorted me to a private en-
trance on Harris street, where we joined
Mr. and Mrs. Shaw. The gentlemen
having conducted us to a box, went to
don their uniform. We were soon
joined b}- General Peabody and his
daughter, and Dr. Prescott and his
daughters. Col. Greenleaf occupied
the next box. I soon espied Mr Mo-
ses Colman and his son Jerr}- in the pit,
and as seat after seat and box after
box filled with the wisdom, wit, beauty
and fashion of the town and vicinity, I
leaned back in my seat, satisfied with
my compan} T , and glad that to please
my uncle and David I had not been
over scrupulous.

This was prior to the formation of
brass bands. The music, consisted of
some half dozen performers on the bu-
gle, clarionet, bass-viol and violin.
Various airs had been played while the
audience were gathering. As the mo-
ment arrived for the performance to
commence, at a bugle call, in dashed
the eight horsemen, in a showy uni-
form in single file ; they rushed around
the ring, then followed a series of splen-
did feats of horsemanship and military
tactics. I do not think 1 should have
known either Mr. Shaw or Mr. Emery
had they not given a little private sig-
nal. They did themselves great credit,

rode better even than the trained eques-
trians. Cayetano was highly delighted,
and was most profuse in his encomiums
and compliments. The military exer-
cise over, Master Tatnal performed
several gymnastic feats. He was fol-
lowed by Master Dufiee, a negro lad,
who drew down the house by feats of
agilitj', leaping over a whip and hoop.
Mr. Codet signalized himself in feats of
horsemanship. Mr. Menial, the clown,
amused the audience by buffoonery and
horsemanship. Mr. Cayetano execut-
ed on two horses the laughable farce of
the "Fish woman, or the Metamorpho-
sis." With a foot on each horse he rode
forward, habited as an immensely fat
fish woman, in a huge bonnet and un-
couth garments. Riding rapidly round
the ring he divested himself of this and
several other suits, ending in making
his final bow as an elegant cavalier.
The young African next performed feats
of horsemanship and vaulting, danced a
hornpipe, and other figures, ending by
dashing' round the ring, standing on
the tips of his toes. The horse, Oce-
let, posted himself in various attitudes,
danced and took a collation with the
clown. Mr. Cayetano performed the
Caudian Peasant, and feats of horse-
manship with hoops, hat and glove, ter-
minating by the leap of the four rib-
bons separated and together. Mr.
Cayetano performed the pyramid, young
Duffee on his shoulders as "Flying
Mercury." Then came the Trampoleon
exercise by Messrs. Menial, Codet, and
the young African ; somersets over
men's heads and a leap over six horses.
The next scene was the Pedestal ; the
horse of knowledge posted in different
attitudes. The performances conclud-
ed with the Taylor riding to Water-
ford upon the unequalled horse Zebra,

OF A NONAGENARIAN".

261

by Mr. Menial, the clown. This was a
most laughable farce, Zebra being a
Jack trained to the part. This elicited
a storni of applause, and the play ended
with cheer after cheer. The circus
gave universal satisfaction, and from
Newbuiyport they went to Exeter, in-
tending to make an Eastern tour.

CHAPTER L.

"There is a destiny that shapes our ends,

Rough hew them as we will."

The memorable Friday evening, the
thirty-first of May, 1811, the sun set in
unclouded splendor, gilding the church
spires, and gleaming upon tree tops,
window panes, and the masts of the
little fleet anchored at the wharves up
and down the river. For the last time
its rays illumined the ancient town ;
when it sank behind the western heights
it bade a final adieu to many an antique
landmark and to many a goodly heri-
tage. The last lingering gleam died
away from the old "port," which
henceforth would only be known in tra-
dition and song. For the last time
busy feet trod those long lines of lofty
warehouses ; carts and drays rattled up
and down the wharves ; the evening
stage coaches dashed up to the Old
Wolfe tavern ; merchant and artisan
turned the key, and wended their way
homeward ; the tea urn steamed on the
luxurious board in stately mansions,
and the more frugal supper was served
in the dwellings of the mechanic and la-
borer. Little did they reck that ere
another day should dawn, each would
be reduced to a perfect equality, alike
homeless and penniless. That the old
town of the primeval settlers and of

Revolutionar} r fame would have passed
into oblivion, that one period had end-
ed, that henceforth a new town was to
arise, a new order of things to be insti-
tuted, new customs and business to be
established, new men and measures to
be represented ; but the old town of
Newburyport, with its commerce, its
prestige and aristocratic splendor had
gone forevermore.

As home duties claimed my presence
I returned to "Crane Neck" the last
week in May. The night of the thirty-
first, the family, with the exception of
my mother and myself, retired at nine
o'clock. We were sitting by the smould-
ering fire, sadly talking over my winter's
experience, when a knock came upon
the back door. Surprised, I rose, and
drawing aside the fastening, opened it
upon William Thurrell, who hastily ex-
claimed, "Sallie, Newburyport is on
fire." Repeating his words to mother,
I ran to the eastern end of the house,
and throwing open the door, I stood
transfixed. It was then only half-past
nine, audit was so light that at that dis-
tance I could have read fine print.

The family and neighborhood were
aroused ; the young men saddled their
horses or harnessed teams, and hurried
to town. The others watched and
moaned in a helpless anguish nearl}* bor-
dering on despair. The house soon be-
came thronged. People came from
miles back, to the hill. We had a good
glass, and from the range of the Pleas-
ant street church steeple, which we mo-
mentarily expected to see enveloped in
flames, 'saw that the fire was still below
the residences of Gen. Peabody and
Col. Bartlett, but we knew that much
of their property must be burned, with
that of other relatives and friends. Re-
calling David Emery's activity, courage,

262

REMIXISCEXCES

and self-forgetfulness , I knew that he
would rush into the thickest of the
fight waged against the devouring ele-
ment, and I could not but feel anxious
for his safety. It was a fearful, a ter-
rible night. If I could have been on
the spot, could haA'e but a helping hand !
but to be thus compelled to gaze in
inactivity' was horrible. All night long
the flames swelled and surged, with a
roar like that of the distant sea.
Towards morning came the sound of
explosions, when great pillars of smoke,
flame and sparks, would spring up
towards the sk} T . By sunrise the fire
had become subdued ; but a dense
smoke veiled all the intervening space,
and the sun came up the heavens red
and lowery, its rays obscured \>y the
dense atmosphere.

Some of the neighbors came home in
the morning, but my uncle, Ben Little,
and my brother James remained through
the day. It was evening ere we learned
the full extent of the great fire. This
conflagration commenced soon after the
ringing of the nine o'clock bell, in the
unoccupied stable in Mechanics' Row,
Inn street, in which the former incen-
diary attempts had been made.

It was a pleasant moonlight evening,
and probably over a hundred persons
were walking the streets in the vicinity.
Suddenly a tall spire of flame shot up
into the sk}-, and in an instant the
whole neighborhood was aglow. No
rain had fallen for several weeks ; a
brisk westerly wind was blowing, which
threw the flames directly upon some of
the principal stores. The alarms of fire
had of late been so frequent that the
fire department were unusually efficient.
There were three or four as good hand
engines as could be purchased, worked
by willing and sturdy hands, and sev-

eral fire companies in perfect organiza-
tion, each member of which was sup-
plied with two leathern buckets, and a
knapsack containing two canvas bags,
of the capacity of four bushels each, for
the removal of clothing and bedding.
The buckets were painted green, with
the owner's name inscribed within a gilt
scroll on the side ; the name was also
stamped upon the knapsack and bags.
The rules of these societies required the
apparatus to be hung in the front entry
of the owner's residence, and once a
month members were detailed to exam-
ine into their efficiency.

In addition wardens were appointed,
who, armed with long poles, ordered
and directed at afire. There were also
ladders placed at frequent intervals
about the town, hung upon a fence or
building, protected from the weather by
a board nailed slant-wise above it. The
bells rang the alarm, but before a stream
of water could be brought the stable was
enveloped in flames, which in an incred-
ibly short time consumed the two un-
improved stables, the tavern and gro-
cery of Joseph Jacknian, Mr. Nathan
Follansbee's grocery store, and a dwell-
ing house belonging to Mr. Matthew
Perkins on Inn street. Notwithstand-
ing the fire department in full ranks
worked with the energy of twice their
force, aided by every exertion of the
citizens, the flames could not be sub-
dued, but soon swept down to the mar-
ket, thence to State street. Every one
rushed to the rescue ; long lines were
formed to pass water ; the high bred
lady stood side by side with her ser-
vants, and humbler neighbors ; all dis-
tinction of cast, age or sex, was lost in
this vortex of misery and terror. As-
sistance came from Newbury, Ames-
bury, Salisbury, Rowley, Ipswich, Dan-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

263

vers, Beverly, Haverhill, Topsfield,
Bradford, and towns across the river in
New Hampshire . Engines were brought
from Salem and some other towns, but
the flames spread in such various direc-
tions as to baffle all exertions'to subdue
it. In a few hours it prostrated every
building on the north side of State
street, from Pleasant street to Market
square, and on the opposite side from
Essex street. It proceeded into Essex
street on the northeast side to the house
of Capt. James Kettell, where it was
checked ; into Middle street as far as
Fair street, on the northeast side, and
a few rods there on the southwest side
into Liberty, within one house of Inde-
pendent, and down Water street as far
as Hudson's wharf, sweeping off every
building within the circle. The whole
of Centre street was laid in ashes, and
the whole row of buildings in Mer-
chants' Row on Ferry wharf; all the
stores on the wharves between the mar-
ket and Marquand's wharf, including
the latter. This cleared about sixteen
and a half acres, in the most compact
and wealthiest part of the town. Nearly
two hundred and fifty buildings were
burnt, most of which were stores and
dwelling houses. Upwards of ninety
families were rendered homeless ; near-
ly every dry goods store was burned,
four printing offices the whole num-
ber, including the Herald office, the cus-
tom house, the surveyor's office, the
post office, two insurance offices the
Union and Phenix, the Baptist meeting-
house, four attorneys' offices, four book
stores, the loss in one of which was
$30,000, and also the town library.

Blunt' s Building and Phenix Building
for a time presented a barrier to the
destructive element, and hopes were
entertained that they would be saved,

but by a sudden change in the wind the
flames were carried directly upon these
immense piles. State street at this
time presented a spectacle most terribly
sublime, the flames meeting in an arch
across it. -The wind increased in
strength, and it was seen that the new
brick Baptist meeting-house on Liberty
street was doomed. This was full of
goods and furniture, deposited there as
a place of undoubted safet} T at the com-
mencement of the fire.

At two o'clock the fire raged in every
direction. The authorities commenced
to blow up and tear down the buildings
in its path. About four o'clock the
danger diminished, and at six the fire
had in a great degree spent its fury.

The scene during the night was most
terrible. The moon gradually became
obscured and at length disappeared in
the thick cloud of smoke which shroud-
ed the atmosphere. The glare of light
was intense, and the heat that of a sul-
try summer noon. The streets were
thronged with those whose dwellings
were consumed, conveying the remains
of their property to places of safety.
Every kind of a vehicle was pressed into
this service, from a hand barrow to a
stage coach.

"The incessant crash of falling build-
ings, the roaring of chimneys like dis-
tant thunder, the flames ascending in
curling volumes from a vast extent of
ruins, the air filled with a shower of
fire, and the feathered throng fluttering
over their wonted retreats, and drop-
ping into the flames, the lowing of the
cows, and the confused noise of exer-
tion and distress, united to impress the
mind with the most awful sensations."

I copy the description of Elder John
Peak, the pastor of the Baptist society,
whose church and dwelling with part of

264

KEMESTSCEXCES

his furniture and clothing were bruned.
He writes, "I saw the roof of our meet-
ing-house tumbling in, leaving the brick
walls principally standing. But what
an awful sight ! Bright flames ascend-
ing to a great height ; explosions of
powder, spirits, etc. ; vast columns of
cinders and flames ascending in quick
succession to the clouds ; a dense smoke
ascending from the burning of tar,
rosin, pitch, etc., formed thick clouds
which spread over all in awful majesty.
The roaring of the flames, accompanied
with wind, the sound of the trumpets
and voices of the firemen, the crash of
buildings, the cry of the sufferers for
help to secure their goods, and the in-
creasing progress of the conflagration ,
altogether, was the most appalling scene
I ever witnessed."

Much household furniture and cloth-
ing was burned that might have been
saved at the commencement of the fire,
had this not have been at such a dis-
tance that many whose houses were de-
stroyed never suspected danger till too
late ; so swift was the destruction, and
so meagre the means of transportation,
that loss was unavoidable.

On Market square, Mr. Edward
Rand's store was burned, but his house
was saved. Perkins & Dean had two
stores, one a fire-proof building, which
was principally preserved ; the remain-
der of the upper side of the square was
swept clean. Mr. Abner Wood and
Maj. Joshua Greenleaf lost two large
ship chandlery stores, and three brick
stores on "Water street. Maj. Green-
leaf's dwelling house, barn, smithy, etc. ,
on Libert}' street, were also consumed.
On Ferry wharf was a block of lofty
buildings called Merchants' Row ; these
were occupied by John Wood and oth-
ers, warehouses ; Samuel Brown, ship

chandlery ; A. & E. Wheelright, three
stores, groceries, iron, etc ; J acob Stone,
groceries ; Zebedee Cook, groceries ;
Robert Dodge, flour : Joseph Stanwood,
jr., sail loft ; Thomas Pritchard, rigging
loft.

On Boardman's wharf, Offin Board-
man lost six stores and warehouses ;
these were occupied by Amos Toppan,
Benjamin G. Boardman and John Ord-
ione. At this wharf a schooner was
burned to the water's edge.

On Atwood's wharf, Margaret At-
wood owned three warehouses ; these
were occupied by John Wood and B.
G. . Sweetser.

On Carter's wharf,W. Boardman lost
one warehouse, Enoch C. Toppan a
shop, block maker, Nathaniel Carter a
house and barn.

On Marquand's wharf, Joseph Mar-
quand had six warehouses, a rigging
loft, counting-room, etc. On Water
street, at the head of the wharf, two
dwelling houses and three stores ; all of
these were burned, including his ele-
gant residence, one of the splendid
mansions of the town. At this wharf
the brig Washington lost its mainmast,
rigging, etc.

On O'Brien's wharf, Capt. Joseph
O'Brien lost one store, and his dwelling
house at the head of the wharf, with
another store on Water street.

On Jackson's wharf, Mr. Abraham
Jackson lost two warehouses, three
stores, and a house on Water street.

On Jewett's wharf, Mr. Jonathan
Gage lost one warehouse. The south
side of Cornhill, from Charter to Essex
street, comprising the Xewburyport
bank and the Peabody building, with
the dry goods stores of James Caldwell,
S. Davis. David Peabody & Co., and
Prescott Spaulding, were not burned ;

OF A

265

these were the only dry goods stores on
State street that were saved. George
Peabody at that time was a clerk inthe
store of James Kimball, on Market
square, which was burned.

CHAPTER LI.

On the evening preceding the fire,
Frank Somerby, Ben. Tappan and Da-
vid Emery had been walking in the mall.
When the nine o'clock bell rung they
turned homeward ; they had reached the
head of State street when that tall spire
of flame darted sk3'ward. Shouting
"Fire," the trio ran down the street.
"Head for my store," said Mr. Somer-
03-, as Mr. Emery turned into Charter
street to get his bags and buckets. Da-
vid still boarded with his brother, and
both belonged to the "AVashington Fire
Association." Tossing his watch and
pocketbook into the hands of Margaret
Lakeman, who resided inthe family, he
seized his fire apparatus and ran to Mr.
Somerby's store, from whence he pro-
ceeded to Wolfe Tavern ; after that had
been cleared, he assisted in the removal
of the bedding in the rooms occupied
by Mr. Stetson, inthe Phenix building.
From that time he worked through the
night, going from house to house as
they became endangered, assisting the
ladies to pack their valuables a task
in which he was peculiarty efficient.
AVithin doors most of the time, too busy
to look dr think, at dawn he found him-
self on the farther confines of the fire ;
with amazement he gazed around
could it be daybreak ? he thought it not
later than twelve o'clock ; could it be
possible ? For the first time he realized
the extent of the terrible conflagration ;

for the first time thought of his own
property, which characteristically had
never entered his mind in his anxiety
for others. Mr. Colman was equally
oblivious, in aiding the members of his
fire company and packing his household
goods, which, as the fire surged up
State street, were put in readiness for
removal.

Being so near the river, the shambles,
through the exertion of Capt. Israel
Young, were saved ; but a stable on
Market square, owned by Dr. Smith of
Mt. Rural, which Mr. Emery occupied,
was burned ; his loss however, was
small, as his wagon was at the slaugh-
ter house on the turnpike, and his horse
at pasture there.

A year previous, through commer-
cial disaster and the dullness in trade
engendered by the embargo, Gen. Pea-
body had been obliged to suspend busi-
ness ; his affairs were soon satisfacto-
rily adjusted, and he commenced the
erection of a new brick store on Market
square ; this building was just complet-
ed, and a fine stock of neW goods had
been put in that last week in May, in the
expectation of opening to the public on
the first of June.

On the afternoon of the 31st of May,
Sophronia Peabody and her cousin Da-
vid had taken tea at Deacon Osgood's,
in West Newbury ; they were on the
summit of Pipestave Hill, on their way
home, when that spire of fire shot into
the sky. Mr. Peabody put his horse to
a run ; in breathless suspense they
dashed to town, in dismay and terror
watching the swift progress of the
flames. As the couple drove into the
yard of the State street mansion, David
threw the reins to a boy who came to
stable the horse, while he and Sophro-
nia hastened to the store. Miss Pea-
34

266

REMINISCENCES

body secured some rich lace, and a few
other light but valuable articles, which
she took home ; these were the only
goods in the whole of that large, new
stock which escaped the flames : the rest
unfortunately were taken to the Baptist
meetinghouse, which later in the night
was consumed with its contents. In
addition, the General lost three other
stores on Market square, and three on
State street, the whole of "Peabody's
Corner," and two on the opposite side
of State street, which were owned in
company with Mr. David Wood ; one
of these was occupied by Jonathan
Woodman, jr.. silversmith; the other
was Newman's barber's shop. *

By the change in the wind that took
the Phenix and Blunt buildings, the up-
per part of State street became endan-
gered ; for a time fears were entertained
respecting my uncle's elegant residence.
Water was carried to the roof, the plate
and much of the clothing was packed ;
but another shift of the wind averted all
danger.

The day after the fire Col. Bartlett
was borne on a bed to the residence of
his brother-in-law, Gen. Peabody, and
Mr. Stetson took Col. Bartlett's house
for a hotel. The brick addition was
built, and this continued to be the loca-
tion of the '"Eastern Stage House" for
about two years. The Tuesday suc-
ceeding the fire I went to town ; I found
Col. Bartlett much more comfortable
and cheerful than I had dared to hope ;
his good judgment and business tact
were never more conspicuous than in a
short consultation held with Gen. Pea-
body while I was in his room. The
General, with reason, appeared nearly
crushed. Seeing that her father hjul
become somewhat inspirited by his rel-
atives' firmness, Sophronia proposed

that we should go out to view the ruins.
Entering Market square from State
street, we paused a moment on the site
of that new store which had been the
goal of so much promise, then proceed-
ed down Water street, taking a circuit
of the whole area. In man}* places
heaps of rubbish were smouldering in
the cellars. It was indescribably sad to
see the large space covered with charred
debris and half-fallen chimneys ; those
belonging to dwelling houses were most-
ly standing to above the ovens. The
sight of these domestic appurtenances
brought such a vivid picture of house-
hold desolation that I turned hastily
away and left the scene.

As many strangers were in town,
drawn thither b}* the double motive of
viewing the ruins and doing spring
shopping, the diy goods stores in the
I-Vabody building presented quite a
lively aspect. At David Peabody's
store we met his fiancee, Miss Sally
C aid well, the daughter of Mr. William
Caldwell. On passing Dr. Andrews'
residence Miss Margaret came to the
door ; she was followed by her little sis-
ter Hannah, carefully holding a basket
and box, in which were packed her
dolls, playthings and picture books.
Mrs. Andrews had kept her younger
children asleep during the whole of the
night of the fire ; this gave Miss Ilan-
n ah great offence; "her things might
have been all burned up ;" thencefor-
ward, through the summer, they were
kept in readiness for a removal at a mo-
ment's notice. There is but one step
from the sublime to the ridiculous,
in a 113* ludicrous incidents occurred at
the fire. Little Eliza Bartlett, awak-
ened by the, noise and glare, clamorous-
ly demanded her best wrought muslin
dress, thinking that it was some grand

OP A

267

gala illumination ; and a lad} T carefully
convej^ed what she supposed to be
choice plate, a long distance, finding to
her disma}^ upon arriving at her des-
tination, that her burthen consisted of
two flatirous.

Tea was announced upon our return ;
I had not intended to stop, but my
aunts insisted upon this. Their equa-
nimity and heroism excited both admira-
tion and wonder ; their nobleness of
character was fully displayed in this
time of trial ; without neglect or confu-
sion every duty was performed in the
sick room and throughout the house-
hold. A stranger would never have
imagined that such a change in the do-
mestic arrangements had occurred in
such a brief space of time.

From the purchase of his house Col.
Bartlett had rented the lower half ; at
the time of the fire it was occupied by
Mrs. Prout and Miss Nabby, the maid-
en sister of the late Mr. Prout. As
Mr. Stetson needed the whole house,
these ladies, with their young serving-
maid, Ann Mason, had also become
boarders in Gen. Peabody's family.
On my account the meal had been
served early ; the gentlemen were not
present, but the circle of ladies did their
best to sustain a cheerful conversation,
which was aided by the prattle of the
children. I could scarcely swallow ;
and it was with a sigh of relief that I
turned my horse's head homeward.
Wishing to relieve my Aunt Bartlett of
all unnecessary care I took her little
adopted girl with me. General Pea-
bod}-'s second daughter, Adeline, a
most lovely child, had been a sufferer
from hip disease for some months ; she
came to Crane Neck soon after. 1 had
one or both of the little girls with me
most of the summer.

On Monday morning, June 3d, at 9
o'clock the inhabitants^of Newburyport
assembled to take into consideration the
state of the sufferers jby the fire, and to
devise means for their relief. At this
meeting the following persons were cho-
sen a committee on behalf of the town
to solicit that aid of a benevolent pub-
lic which the distress of a great portion
of other citizens so forcibly claimed, and
to adopt the necessary measures for af-
fording immediate relief to the desti-
tute, and to distribute among the suf-
ferers at their discretion all monej-s or
other property which might be received :

Jeremiah Nelson, Isaac Adams,
Eleazer' Johnson, Jacob Stone, Nicho-
las Johnson, jr., selectmen; Joseph
Dana, William Woart, Isaac Stone,
Nicholas Johnson, Aaron Pardee, Wil-
liam Bartlet, Moses Brown, William
Coombs, John Pettingell, Samuel Coffin,
Joshua Carter, James Prince, Michael
Hodge, jr., Benjamin Pierce, William
llussell, Stephen Howard, Robert Fos-
ter, Samuel Tenney, John Stuart, Sam-
uel L. Knapp, Daniel A. White, Nich-
olas Pike, Thomas M. Clark, Joseph
Williams, William Cross.

The selectmen of the town were au-
thorized and appointed to receive all
moneys and other donations for the use
of the sufferers ; and Win. Bartlett,
Woart, Moses Brown, Benj. Pierce,
T. M. Clark, Nicholas Johnson, Joseph
Williams, John Pettingell and Isaac
Adams were appointed to solicit sub-
scriptions, and receive donations from
the inhabitants of Newburyport. The
sufferers in need of immediate relief
were requested to apply at the store of
Capt. William Russell, Market square,
where also conti'ibutions of provisions
were gratefully received.

In a town meeting held on Friday,

268

REMIXISCEXCES

June 7th, it was voted, "that in future
no buildings should be erected within
the limits of the town more than ten
feet high, unless the same be built of
brick or stone." From this vote sprang
the large number of low wooden shops
called "ten footers," which for a num-
ber of j-ears disfigured the streets.

The 13th of June was set apart as a
day of fasting and prayer, in conse-
quence of the heavy calamity with 'which
the town had been visited. In the fore-
noon a sermon was delivered in Eev.
Mr. Dana's meeting-house by Rev. Mr.
Miltimore of Belleville ; in /the after-
noon the Rev. Dr. Buckminister of
Portsmouth preached at the Rev. Dr.
Spring's meeting-house ; in both instan-
ces there were crowded audiences.

By the invitation of Rev. John Giles
and his society, Elder John Peak
preached in the Harris street church the
Sunday succeeding the fire. In the
morning the Baptist clergyman took his
text from Isaiah 5th, 24th, "Therefore
as the fire devoureth the stubble, and
the flame consurneth the chaff, so their
root shall be as rottenness, and their
blossom shall go up as dust : because
they have cast away the law of the
Lord of Hosts, and despised the word
of the Holy One of Israel." The af-
ternoon sermon had for its object
"Comfort to the afflicted who put their
trust in the Lord."

The following Sabbath the Baptist
societ}' occupied the court house, in
which they worshipped until the erec-
tion of the new church. This society
was peculiarly bereaved by the fire.
In addition to the loss of their meet-
ing house, eleven of their principal mem-
bers were amongst the greatest suffer-
ers. Capt. Joseph O'Brien, who had
been one of their most prominent ben-

efactors, lost $30,000. At a society
meeting June llth, it was voted to ap-
point the Rev. John Peak an agent, to
solicit aid towards the erection of a new
house of worship. The clergyman
made a tour as far south as Philadel-
phia and Baltimore, visiting most of
the Baptist societies on his route. Af-
ter his return he went as far east as
Hallowell. This'mission was eminent-
ly successful, and steps were immedi-
ately taken to procure the land for a
new meeting-house ; a committee of
three was appointed to circulate sub-
scription papers at the north, south and
central parts of the town. That for the
centre received no subscribers ; at the
south end one individual subscribed fif-
teen dollars ; at the north end five hun-
dred dollars were subscribed. Conse-
quently it .was decided to place the new
meeting-house on Congress street. A
plan for a building fifty feet by fort}*-
two, with gallery, was approved, and
the work commenced in April, 1812.
The site of the old meeting-house, with
the basement, bricks etc., were sold for
the benefit of the original proprietors.
After the new house had been begun,
Dr. Bolles' society, of Salem, present-
ed a subscription amounting to$440.17.
This church was completed the last of
July, and with the land cost less than
than 84000. "The house was dedicat-
ed without parade, with fervent suppli-
cations for the divine blessing on the
church, congregation, the word which
should be dispensed there, and on their
kind benefactors."

The Rev. Dr. Spring also made a
tour for the purpose of soliciting funds,
traveling as far south as Virginia. This
call was met most generously ; Phila-
delphia, with the aid given to Mr. Peak,
contributed $3000, and a Moravian so-

OF A

269

ciety in Pennsylvania added $60 to the
funds forwarded from that state ; be-
sides many donations from distant parts
of the country, the neighboring cities
and towns were most prompt and lib-
eral in their contributions ; Boston gave
$24,315.25 ; Charlestown sent $1,744.-
L 55. Of this $150 was presented by the
firemen to their brethren in Newbury-
port ; Salem presented $1000 and con-
tributions of clothing ; Portsmouth and
all the smaller towns gave as largely in
proportion to their means. Those of
our citizens who were able showed
great liberally towards their unfortu-
nate fellow citizens ; provisions, furni-
ture and clothing were given in large
quantities from Newburyport, New-
bury, and the other adjoining towns ;
Mr. William Bartlett presented $3000,
Mr. Moses Brown $1500, and other
gentlemen contributed as their means
permitted ; the Shaker families at Can-
terbury and Enfield sent five waa'on
loads of furniture, bedding, clothing
and food, which were received with the
warmest thanks.

The 1st of June th circus of Messrs.
Cayetano & Meniol was in Portsmouth ;
these gentlemen wrote to Samuel Shaw
and David Emery that if they would
come over and ride in the military ex-
ercise, they would advertise a benefit
for the Newburyport sufferers. This
proposal was accepted with alacrity,
and the proceeds of the exhibition,
which amounted to sixty dollars, were
handed to the Newbmypo.rt Relief As-
sociation. Such a noble charity from
foreigners and strangers was duly ap-
preciated by our townsmen, and it was
with genuine grief that some two or
three years after, they received the tid-
ings of the loss of the whole troop on

their passage from New Orleans to
Havana.

Of the money received, as just a dis-
tribution as possible was made. No
one whose remaining property amount-
ed to the value of five thousand dollars
received auy appropriation. From the
first few days after the fire the burnt
area in the vicinity of Market square
and State street presented a most busy
aspect ; the debris was quickly cleared,
and the foundations of most of the
present buildings were laid ; before
winter many dry goods and grocery
stores were opened, and by the second
year the town bore a much handsomer
appearance than before the fire ; but
the war with England and other causes
combined to curtail business, and it was
years before the traces of the great fire
were wholly obliterated.

Col. Bartlett lingered till November.
For many weeks he laid helpless as an
infant, and the end came gently ; with-
out any painful struggle, his transition
to another world was in perfect keep-
ing with his calm, genial character.
Earthly cares and duties finished, he
departed, in the hope of a new and
blissful life in that world "where there
is no more death." His widow bowed
in submission, casting her burden upon
that Savior who alone could give com-
fort. His relatives, friends, and the
whole community mourned the loss of
one, who at the early age of thirty-eight
had been called fjjpm their midst.

Col. Bartlett was buried under arms,
and the funeral, which was from Gen.
Peabody's residence, was largely at-
tended. Dr. Dana conducted the ser-
vice, then the military formed in the
order of escort ; behind the hearse a
negro attendant led the Colonel's fam-
ous charger a splendid white horse ;

270

REMINISCENCES

from his bridle floated bands of crape ;
the housing was of black ; across the
saddle depended the uniform boots, with
spurs attached, and upon it were laid
his sword and cap, with its long white
plume ; next came a long procession of
gentlemen on foot, and a long line of
mourners in carriages concluded the
cortege, which to the solemn beat of
the inuffled drum slowly moved to the
Old B my ing Hill, where dust was ren-
dered to dust. A volley having been
fired over the grave, the musicians
struck up a lively air, and the remains
were left in the full hope of a glorious
immortality.

The famous white horse became the
property of Mr. Benjamin Hale, who
succeeded Col. Bartlett in the stage
agency. Though obliged to part with
her favorite, Mrs. Bartlett, through the
kindness of Mr. Hale, never felt his
loss, as she had only to name the time
when a ride was desired, and the horse
was immediately put at her disposal.

My preparations for marriage were
nearly complete, but nothing definite
had been decided upon, when to' my
utter astonishment, one evening in
March David Emery came with the an-
nouncement that he had hired the Pills-
bur}* place in Belleville, and had come
to take me down with him in the morn-
ing to inspect the premises, and assist
in making farther arrangements. I was
completely dumbfounded. ' The Pills-
bury domain consisted of a farm of
sixty acres, on which was a large, old-
fashioned house, which for many years
had been a noted tavern for drovers
and country traders. With the most
perfect sang froid Mr. Emery stated
his intention of immediately putting up
a large slaughtering house, and that he
had already hired Mr. James Carey to

assist in the butchering business. Mr.
Carey, his wife and two children were
to occupy a part of the house. "I was
expected to become the mistress of a
public house on a large farm, with an
extensive butchering establishment at-
tached !" "Yes, and I could doit."
Efficient help had been secured a girl
from Lock's Hotel, who knew every
"rope in the ship." Lock had succeed-
ed Coburn, who had been appointed
deputy sheriff.

Somewhat encouraged, I began to
gather my scattered ideas and to take
a more coherent view of things ; but it
was after a restless night that I set
forth with Mr. Emery in the morning.
The place of our destination had for-
merly been the homestead of Mr. Ed-
ward Rawson. to whom at the first set-
tlement of the township five hundred
and eighty-one acres of land had been
granted, which was termed Rawson's
Xewbury plantation. Mr. Rawson was
the first town clerk of Newbury. and
one of the wealthiest arid most influen-
tial citizens. Afterwards he became
Secretary of the colony of Massachu-
setts and moved to Dorchester. The
unfortunate marriage of his youngest
daughter, Miss Rebecca Rawson, to an
Englishman named Thomas Ramsey,
under the assumed name and character
of Sir Thomas Hale jr., nephew of Lord
Chief Justice Hale, Whittier has woven
into his charming tale entitled "Mar-
garet Smith's Journal," and this first
home of 1113* married life was the scene
of that romance.

In 1(551 (O. S) Mr. William Pills-
Imry purchased of Mr. Edward Raw-
sou forty acres of land for the sum of
one hundred pounds. The deed of this
purchase is still held by the Pillsbury
family. The present house was built

Or A

271

in 1700, b}' Mr. Daniel Pillsbury. Orig-
inal^ it consisted of the main building ;
the several additions, which so mate-
rinlly enhance its picturesque appear-
ance, have been made as the needs of
the occupant required. At this time
the estate had passed through three
generations to the heirs of Mr. Joshua
Pillsbury, who a few years previous hud
purchased a farm in Boscawen, where
lie had recently died. Pilesburgh or
Pilesborough, now Pillslmry, Essex,
England, Arms. Per fesse sable and
azure, on an eagle displayed argent ;
three griffins' heads, erased of the sec-
ond. Crest, an Esquire's helmet-
Motto, Labar ammia vinrent.

A piercing March wind swept with
great force across u the plains ;" I was
completely chilled before we reached
our destination. The old tavern looked
dreary and uninviting. With a sinking
heart I stepped from the sleigh and ac-
companied Mr. Emery to the door.
The premises were occupied by a family
named Poor. Mr. Emery having intro-
duced me to Mrs. Poor, went with Mr.
Poor to the barn. My hostess led the
way to the large kitchen next the street ;
the breakfast dishes had not been
cleared, and the room bore a most un-
tidy aspect. A chair having been dust-
ed, I was requested to take a seat at
the fire. Gathering my handsome,
light, drab cloth pelisse about me, I
ventured to do so. While warming my
benumbed feet the landlady never
ceased making apologies ; she had not
expected me so early, she had small
children, etc. I stopped the talk as
speedily as possible by rising to go over
the house ; the spacious rooms were
ding} 7 , dirty, and meagerly furnished ;
everything looked sombre and cheer-
less ; I felt as though the}* were peo-

pled with all the defunct Rawsons and
Pillsbiuys : in fancy, gliding before me,
I saw Miss Rebecca Rawson, whom the
scamp Thomas Rsmsey so shamefully
married, then robbed and deserted in a
foreign land, and who soon after met
with a tragical death, being swallowed
up by an earthquake in Port Royal.
Mr. Emery's brisk step and quick, busi-
ness tone dispelled these illusions. Al-
terations and repairs were discussed ;
whitewash, paint and paper would work
wonders. Quite inspired, I rode down
to my Uncle Peabody's.

Considerable trade had sprung up be-
tween Newburyport and Alexandria
and Georgetown, and several of our
citizens had become residents of the
District. Gen. Peabody had decided
to join them ; preparations were in
progress for the families' removal to
Georgetown early in the summer.

Mr. Bartlett still boarded at her sis-
ter's ; her future was undetermined.
I had long coveted the two card tables
and some other articles of furniture that
had stood in her parlor. Much to my
delight I found that they could be pur-
! ; Aunt Peabody was glad to let
me take some of her surplus things. I
returned home that night well satisfied ;
order was beginning to be evolved from
the chaos of my brain, and courage was
up. Bringing for the new career marked
out for the coming j-ears.

The wedding was on the 22nd of
April. No one was present but the
family. Dr. Parish performed the cer-
emony. I wore a white India muslin,
the skirt edged by an ornamental bor-
der wrought in colored worsted ; bands
of similar embroidery finished the neck
and short sleeves, with a girdle to
match. My walking dress was a short
pelisse of light drab silk, trimmed with

272

REMINISCENCES

black lace ; the bonnet matched the
pelisse, trimmed with bias folds of the
silk bound with white satin, and white
satin strings. The hair in full curls
upon the temples, formed a sufficient
face trimming. Mr. Emery had a blue
coat with brass buttons ; drab pants,
white vest, a drab overcoat, and a very
stylish black beaver ; we both wore
white kids.

Mr. and Mrs. Carey with their two
eldest children, Sophronia and Hannah,
were already settled in their rooms at
the upper end of the house. On my
arrival I found myself not only the land-
lady of a public house, but the mistress
of a family numbering seven persons ;
besides Betsey Downing, the maid ser-
vant, there were three hired men, Dan-
iel Smith, Aaron Palmer, John Webs-
ter, and a boy of fourteen named Guy
Carlton Mackie. This lad had been
cast a waif upon the world ; his expe-
rience had been both varied and roman-
tic ; his last feat had been to escape
from a British man-of-war, where he
had been brutally treated, as his scarred
back bore witness. Mr. Justin Smith
picked him up in Boston and brought
him to Newburyport to tend in his res-
taurant ; he might as well have em-
ployed a monkey. As the lad, in com-
mon with most boys had taken a huge
liking to Mr. Emery, Mr. Smith im-
plored him to take him; "he could
manage him if it was in the power of
mortal to do it." Accordingly I was
received by this hopeful, cap in hand,
with the most graceful of bows. For
two years he continued the most faith-
ful and devoted of servants ; my word
was law, and he was equally obedient
to Mr. Emery. Ever alert, quick-wit-
ted, possessing a knowledge of the
world far beyond his years, he proved

a valuable addition to the menage.

The March previous Capt. Jeremiah
Colman and First Lieutenant David
pjmen* had both received promotion ;
Captain Colman became Major of the
regiment of cavalry, and Lieut. Emery
took the command of the company.
On the Monday following our mar-
riage there was another choice of offi-
cers, when Jeremiah Colman was chos-
en Colonel and my husband Major.*
Thus, in the period of one month, Da-
vid Emery received both a captain's
and major's commission in the troop,
besides assuming the responsibility of
marriage and the management of an ex-
tensive business.

Belleville presented at that time the
same neat and pleasant appearance as
now. At the junction of the main feriy
and bridge roads, facing High street,
stood the old-fashioned hay scales. The
first house round "Newton Corner" was
that of Mr. William Wade ; next came
the fine residence of Mr. Robert Dodge ;
below stood Varnurn Howe's house and
hatter's shop, the Gordon house and
blacksmith's shop, the residences of
Mr. Amos Atkinson, Col. Eben Hale,
Mr. Folsom, Mr. Russel, Mr. Oliver
Hale and Messrs. Moses L. and Theo-
dore Atkinson. Below came the Qua-
ker meeting-house and the mansion of
the late Dr. Edmund Saw3'er, then oc-
cupied by his widow and family, and
that of the Rev. James Mityimore, the
Pillsbury place, the Atkins estate and
the residence of Capt. Reuben Jones.
The house on the corner of Toppan's
Lane was owned by Mr. Jonathan Har-
ris, whose wife was Anna Toppan, a
daughter of the late Edward Toppan.
Down the lane came Mr. Stephen Top-
pan's house and the old Toppan home-

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

273

stead, then the propert} r of Mr. Enoch
Toppan.

The first house on the lower side of
Pligh street, from the bridge road, was
that of Miss Eunice Atkinson, after-
wards .Mrs. Moses Currier ; the next
belonged to Mr. William Merrill ; next
came the residences of Mr. Moses At-
kinson, Orlando Merrill, Jacob Littte.
Stephen Little, the homestead of Josiah
Little esq., Mr. Thomas H ale's house
and hatter's shop ; William Wiggles-
worth's house and that of Mr. Moses
Merrill ; the next house belonged to
"Marm Fowler," one of the ancient
school dames ; below was a small one-
stor}' house, and another of two stories,
the latter belonging to Dr. Edmund
Sawyer's estate. On this side of the
street was Russell's chaise manufactory.
The schoolhouse and meetinghouse
stood .together, above Moody's Lane;
below was Samuel Moody's house and
that of Mr. Thomas Emery ; on the
upper corner of Tyng street stood the
house built by Mr. Thomas Coker.

The morning after the arrival at our
new home our next neighbor Parson
Miltimore called, and in his genial man-
ner bade us welcome. This was the
commencement of a friendship that con-
tinued to the end of the wortlrr clergy-
man's life. Mrs. Miltimore, an invalid,
visited but seldom, but the young peo-
ple became most pleasant companions.
The three sons, Andrew, James and
John Murray, and the three daughters,
Dorothy, Eliza and Maiy, had none of
them yet left the paternal roof.

The next Sunday we attended service
at the Belleville meetinghouse. This
was the .first building, the one burned
b,y lightning a good-sized edifice, with
galleries, and a tall and graceful spire.
A broad and two-side aisle led to the

pulpit, which was in the style of the pe-
riod ; a sounding-board was suspended
above the desk, upon which rested a
green velvet cushion ; the arched win-
dow in the rear was draped with a cur-
tain of the same color ; the pulpit cush-
ion, and the seats of the three j-ellow,
oval-backed, wooden chairs which stood
beneath it were covered to match. A
mahogan}' communion table occupied
the platform in front, and two hand-
some glass candelabra were placed either
side of the sacred desk ; there was no
chandelier, but the scones for candles
were hung around the walls.

The society was large and gf the
highest respectability. The Pillsbury
pew, which we had hired with the place,
was on the left side of the broad aisle
from the entrance, and about half way
to the pulpit ; one seat, which was cush-
ioned, was reserved for Grandma'am
Pillsbury ; the rest of the pew, like
those throughout the house, were un-
painted boards hung upon hinges.
Some faces were strange, but many of
the congregation were relatives or ac-
quaintances. There were the Little
families from Turkey Hill and Belle-
ville. Mr. Nathaniel Emery, from the
lower parish of Newbury. The Top-
pans, Atkinsons, Mr. Thomas Hale's,
and all the families on High street above
the meetinghouse, and many below,
Mr. John Balch's and Capt. John Rem-
ick's, and most of the other families
from Bellevilleport. The choir, as was
then the custom, was composed of vol-
unteers, all good singers, and accom-
panied by a bass viol.

Gen. Peabody had established a store
for dry goods in Georgetown, D. C. ; in
June his wife and family left to join
him. They sailed in the brig Citizen,
Capt. Dole, of Ring's Island. This was
35

274

REMTNTISCEXCES

a regular packet plying between New-
buryport and the District of Columbia,
owned by Messrs. Robert, Allen and
Frank Dodge. This firm was largely
engaged in the flour trade, and for its
greater facility Mr. Frank Dodge had
recently become a resident of George-
town. This separation from my aunt
and cousins was painful to the whole
family, but especially so to me ; I took'
my farewell the day prior to their de-
parture. The spacious house was emptj*
and closed ; the furniture, trunks etc.,
were loading for the vessel. My aunt
and cousin Sophronia maintained a
calm, even smiling exterior, though I
well knew that great heart sobs scarcely
permitted utterance. John, the oldest
son, a handsome, noble j'outh, coura-
geously assumed the burthen of man-
hood, and the younger children clus-
tered about me, giving their little mes-
sages and last kisses. It was inexpres-
sibly sorrowful to leave my pet, my
sweet, darling Adeline ; the beautiful
girl so lovely in her suffering, clung to
me in an embrace that spoke volumes ;
and I could not but feel that this was a
final adieu. Polly Smart, the faithful
handmaiden of j-ears, who adhered to
my aunt like Ruth to Naomi, also came
to say good-bye. Sad, sad was the
parting, and it was through an irrepres-
sible mist of tears, that from the upper
window of the old Pillsbury house I
watched the Citizen glide down the
river and over the bar ; watched until
she became a white speck on the sk} r ,
then wholly disappeared in the distance.

Aunt Bartlett took the house and
shop formerly occupied by Mrs. Searle.
and with the assistance of two young
lady acquaintances she set up a fane}'
goods and milliner's store.

The intelligence of the declaration of

the war with Great Britain was re-
ceived in Newburyport on the fourth of
July. There had been a celebration,
oration, etc., Major Emery had been on
duty, and Col. Moses Newell, of the
upper parish, who dined with us. I
was apprised of the news at the table.
There was much conversation, but my
husband said little, and I knew by his
grave taciturnity that he was troubled.
At night, after the house was still he
came into my private parlor, and sink-
ing into the large rocking-chair ex-
claimed, "Wife, I fear I am ruined."
Whether it was my father's democratic
rearing, or a clearer insight, I cannot
tell, but someway I did not share in
this despondency, and soon succeeded
in chasing the gloom from his brow.

CHAPTER L1I.

The declaration of war caused much
anxiety for the safet3' of the Citizen.
Two days' sail from Georgetown, and
she was boarded by a British frigate.
At her appearance Capt. Dole strove to
outsail her, but the third shot over his
bows compelled him to heave to and
answer the demands of "where from"
and "where to?" At the third ques-
tion "with what laden ?" a clerk of Gen.
Peabody's named William Brown, Tvho
accompanied the family, caught the
speaking trumpet from the captain's
hand, and shouted, "A few Yankee no-
tions, such as women, children and
spinning wheels." A boat was imme-
diately lowered, but as the boarding offi-
cer found that Mr. Brown had given a
correct invoice, and though the declara-
tion of war had passed the senate, its
ratification by the House had not been

OF A

275

received, after a short delay the Citizen
was permitted to proceed to her destina-
tion, which was reached in safety, and
my uncle's family were soon domesti-
cated in their Southern home.

In Federal New England the war was
exceedingly unpopular, and the Gov-
ernor of Massachusetts appointed a pub-
lic Fast. In every seaport there was
much distress. Labor was impeded ;
the most industrious were enforced to
idleness ; poverty took the place of
plenty ; this was too often followed by
despondency, drunkenness and misery.
Many a noble man became a mere wreck
of humanity, and man} T a delicately
bred lady descended into an unthrifty,
slatternly household drudge, while their
offspring, half clad and half fed, mixed
unrestrained amongst the very dregs of
the population. "It is an ill wind that
blows no one good." The war which
ruined hundreds, brought, notwithstand-
ing my husband's forebodings, great
prosperity to the tavern ; we could not
have engaged in a more lucrative busi-
ness. British manufacturers having
quantities of goods upon their hands,
ran cargo after cargo into their eastern
provinces, thence they were passed
across the border and taken South by
ox teams ; as our accommodations were
excellent, the teamsters made "Em-
eiy's tavern" their headquarters. The
first teams arrived in September five
carts loaded with a variety of goods,
consigned to Boston^ merchants. From
that time until the winter of 1815 more
or less came every week, usually to
stop over night ; at sunset I have often
counted a dozen or fifteen drawn up by
the sidewalk, opposite the long barn,
their motley coverings of patchwork
quilts, coverlets etc., presenting a g} r p-
sy-like, semi-barbarous appearance.

Gunpowder and other ammunition was
also transported. One night we slept
with a large wagon loaded with powder
standing directly opposite the house,
but as the fact was not known until after
its departure in the morning, no fears
alarmed the household or neighborhood,
but Mr. Emery was careful that there
should not be any repetition of the risk.
Commerce being entirely stopped,
and the coasting trade greatly impeded,
all imported goods commanded an ex-
orbitant price. Flour rose to fifteen
and eighteen dollars per barrel, brown
sugar was twenty-five cents a pound,
molasses a dollar fifty cents per gallon.
Dry goods, crockery, glass etc., were
equally dear. I paid a dollar a yard
for calico, a common-sized looking-glass
cost sixteen dollars, common tea-sets
were from nine shillings to two dollars.
My china set was sixteen dollars ; blue-
edged dining plate were a dollar per
dozen, knives and forks were from two
and and a half to three dollars per doz-
en. With the exception of corn and
wool, all kinds of country produce was
cheap. Good butter brought from nine-
pence to a shilling, and cheese from
eight to nine cents per pound ; potatoes
were twenty-five cents per bushel. All
kinds of butcher's meat was low. Ow-
ing to the high price of wool the pelts
alone paid the cost of the live animal,
and a good carcass of mutton could be
bought for fifty cents. Cheap as this
was, owing to the lack of work, many
had not the money to buy even a small
piece of meat. Mr. Emery was in the
habit of giving away livers, heads, and
the cheaper pieces. Young lads out of
our most respectable families, on half-
holidays and after school, were glad to
give a helping hand at the slaughter
house, receiving in pay a liver, sweet-

276

REMINISCENCES

bread, or bones for a soup. I have
often watched them as they passed the
house with their baskets, their faces ra-
diant in the expectation of a good din-
ner on the morrow. Some of our best
mechanics were glad to dig potatoes on
shares, thus securing a supply for win-
ter. Mr. Emery having raised three or
four hundred bushels, this was a mutual
benefit. As the supply brought by the
eastern coasters was diminished, wood
rose to ten dollars per cord. Most of
this was rafted down the river, but dur-
ing the winter quantities came from
New Hampshire ; in good sledding I
have seen a dozen loads in a line pro-
ceeding down High street.

Federalist ideas were so prominent
the fitting of privateers was strongly
opposed ; but as this was the onh- hope
for our marine, and as the administra-
tion had some strong supporters, dur-
ing the summer a number of vessels
cleared from Newbu^-port, "bound on
a cruise." One of the most active in
this business was Capt. Benjamin
Pierce, a wealth}' and influential citizen,
largely interested in shipping. During
the war he fitted out several armed ves-
sels at his own expense and tendered
them to the government. Capt. Pierce
married Elizabeth Gerrish, who was
connected with one of the most promi-
nent and influential families of the town,
and through a long life she was emi-
nent for piety, benevolence and patriot-
ism. Capt. and Mrs. Pierce had five
daughters and three sons Sarah Coffin,
who married Thomas H. Battell and
afterwards Mr. James Oakes of Boston ;
Elizabeth Maria, who married Mr. D.
C. Mosele}*, afterwards, Hon. Joel W.
White of Norwich, Conn., who was con-
sul at Lions, France, for several years ;
Rebecca married Mr. George Reed, a

prominent merchant of Boston ; Man-
became the wife of our respected citi-
zen. J. J. Knapp. esq. After the fire
of 1811 Capt. Pierce built the mansion
on High street, which after his decease
came into the possession of Mrs.
Knapp, where she resided until her
death. This lady inherited the noble
traits of her parents, and to an ad-
vanced age, she was ever read}- to lis-
ten to any tale of suffering, while her
hand and purse were always open to ex-
tend relief. Caroline, the youngest
daughter, is unmarried, and has long
been a resident of New York city. The
three sons, Benjamin, Charles and
George, all died single.

One of Capt. Pierce's vessels, the
brig "Decatur," was commanded by
Capt. William Nichols. In Jury the
sound of heavy guns called the popula-
tion to the wharves and other outlooks
commanding the water. Coming up the
river was the 'Decatur," gay with flags
and streamers, followed b}* two English
prizes, the brig "Elisabeth," taken on
the 25th of July, and the '-Duke of Sa-
voy." whose captain was shot dead at
the wheel ; there was also a French
schooner, captured from the French by
the English and recaptured b} r the "De-
catur." A great crowd awaited the
landing.

CHAPTER LIII.

Upon hiring the Pillsbury place Mr.
Emery had put up a bowling alley.
This attracted the townspeople, and as
it was a pleasant walk to Belleville, I
had many callers. Several of the el-
derly gentlemen became habitually ac-
customed to saunter up to the tavern on

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

277

pleasant afternoons, when they often
dropped into my private parlor for a
chat. Mr. John Trac}-, paralyzed and
feeble, was a frequent visitor ; he was
usually accompanied by his friend,
Mr. Samuel A. Otis. Mr. Tracy
was fond of recalling the events of
his earlier days ; his tales of the Rev-
olutionary period were ver}' interesting.
During the winter that Boston was oc-
cupied by the British, Mr. Tracy went
to the city to visit his ladylove ; he had
scarcely arrived, when he learned that
Gen. Gage had gained intelligence of a
vessel of his loaded with gunpowder
which was nearly due, and had placed
one of the fleet on the watch for her.
Bidding his betrothed a hasty adieu, he
again mounted his horse and retraced
his steps with all speed, finding to his
great joy upon his entrance into New-
bun port, his vessel safe at the wharf.
As I have previously stated, Mr.
Tracy and his brother Patrick were
largely engaged in privateering. A
succession of ill luck had proved almost
ruinous. At the end of 1777 the broth-
ers had lost forty-one ships. Mr. Tracy's
only hope was centered in a letter of
marque of eight guns, of which he had
received no tidings. Walking one day
with his brother, discussing the ways
and means of obtaining subsistence for
their families, a strange sail was es-
pied making for the harbor. Mr. John
Tracy jocosely exclaimed, "Perhaps it
is a prize for me ." Mr. Patrick laughed
a doubtful laugh, but Mr. John imme-
diately took a boat and went down the
river. To his great amazement, on
reaching the ship he found that it was
really a prize belonging to him, worth
five and twenty thousand pounds ster-
ling.

As the summer advanced dry goods

qt every description became excessively
scarce, consequent!}- exceedingly high
in price. Though in most families
there was more or less spinning and
\veaving, and the click of knitting
needles was a familiar sound, it was
difficult to procure proper apparel ;
plainness in dress was enforced by ne-
cessity. This state of things engen-
dered an illicit traffic which our people
as good Federalists were slow to con-
demn. I was awakened one night by
a tap upon the window of my bedroom.
Somewhat startled, I still forebore to
awaken my husband, who had retired
much fatigued. Slipping on a wrapper,
I raised the curtain and asked ""Who is
there?" "A friend ;" was the reply,
"make no disturbance, but call the
Major ; I must see him a few moments."
I recognized the voice as that of Capt.
Josiah Bartlett ; at that time an active
shipmaster. Mr. Emer}' hastily dressed,
when it was found that Capt. Bartlett
had a stagecoach at the door, filled with
merchandise, gloves, muslins, laces,
vestings, ribbons, and other articles of
a like description. These were hastily
placed in my best bedroom, from whence
they were gradually taken to the stores
in town. Capt. Bartlett continued to
bring goods for some time. We often
had bales of valuable cloth hidden in
the hay mow ; some were taken to
Crane Neck and stored away in the
large back chamber.

The collector of the customs, Mr.
Ralph Cross, and Master Whitmore,
another custom house official, were in
the habit of walking up to the tavern of
a pleasant afternoon ; on one occasion
I entertained the two old gentlemen in
m}- parlor while Mr. Emery loaded a
team at the barn with smuggled goods
and drove away to West Newbury with- ,

278

REMINISCENCES

out exciting the slightest suspicion in
the government officers, though the
whole household were on the broad
grin, and I was obliged to control my
risibles and give a variety of private
signals to the others to prevent an un-
seemly outburst of merriment.

Late in the autumn Mr. Luther Wa-
terman and Mr. Joshua Aubin received
notice that a lot of linen awaited their
order at "Kennebunk wharves." How
were they to get it to Newburyport !
"The Major" was everybody's resource
in a dilemma, and no excuse would be
received; "he must get that linen.''
Mr. Emer}* hesitated ; it was a job he
did not relish. Besides having inherit-
ed his father's consumptive tempera-
ment, his health was such he could ill
bear over fatigue and exposure, but
overcome by his friends' importunity,
he at length reluctantly made his prep-
arations for the journe}-. Wishing to
remain unrecognized, he donned his
worst suit of clothes, to which was add-
ed a gray spencef belonging to my
brother James, too short in the waist
and sleeves ; over this was drawn an
old overcoat, which as it was minus
several buttons, was secured by a red
surcingle ; an old siouched hat and a
pair of striped woollen mittens complet-
ed the disguise.

In the summer of 1811, Mr. Emery
had driven to market the first covered
butcher's cart. This wagon had been
made to order, and was A 1 in every
respect. To this wagon, for the Kenne-
bunk expedition, were harnessed "tan-
dem," the Major's splendid parade
horse, 4 'Peacock" and our family horse,
"Kate," a beautiful sorrel rnare. I ex-
pressed to my husband the fear that the
contrast between his dress and his
team might excite suspicion. My dis-

quietude became increased at finding
after Mr. Emery's departure that our
house dog "Turk," a handsome and
noted animal, was missing. According
to my husband's direction, he had been
shut into my room, but "snuffing the
battle afar," in some unknown way he
obtained egress, and started ahead,
keeping shrewdly out of sight until his
master had advanced too far on the
road to turn back.

Mr. Emery set out early on Monday
morning. Wednesday night the wel-
come rumble of wheels, and his glad
tones, brought the whole family to
the door. A large hogshead marked
"Rum," filled the wagon, which was
driven to the barn and unloaded. Turk,
quite tired out, sought his nook beside
my parlor fire, whither he was soon
followed b}~ his master, who having re-
freshed himself by a change of raiment
and a good supper, entertained me with
an account of his adventures.

The journey to the "Wharves" was
made in good time. The goods were
stored in the warehouse of a retired sea
captain. This gentleman had been
largely engaged in the West India trade.
and there were plent}" of rum casks at
hand. After some consultation it was
decided to pack the linen in one of
these, which was done. A certificate
must be at hand, but as the one belong-
ing to this cask could not be found,
another was adroitly altered. It was
late ere all the arrangements were com-
pleted, and the captain invited Mr.
Emeiy to pass the night at his resi-
dence, where he was entertained most
hospitably. The following morning the
cask was hoisted into the wagon ; there
were plenty to assist, several very gen-
tlemanly looking young men lending a
hand with alacrit}'. It was nearly

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

279

noon before everything had been com-
pleted. By mistake the lower road was
taken. Wishing to avoid the ferry Jit
Portsmouth, Mr. Emery inquired of a
young fellow he met how it could be
done. The gift of a cigar won his
good offices, and he volunteered to lead
the way through a cross-road that
turned on to the upper route. Night
closed in ; the path led through dense
woods ; an early snow that elsewhere
had vanished, covered the ground ;
here and there were small clearings,
where a log hut loomed up amid the
charred stumps, its one or two small
windows, radiant from the pine knot
within, and crowded with faces that the
crunch of the wagon through the snow
had drawn thither.

The main route having been gained,
his conductor left him. -Having driven
till past midnight, he came to a large
tavern ; after repeated knocks a boy's
head . was thrust from a window, who
shouted, "'taint the teamsters, Mr.
Smith, it's a man." After further par-
ley the door was opened, and the land-
lord, bearing a lantern, came out, ex-
cusing the delay ; he was troubled with
teamsters from the back settlements,
who only came in to warm themselves
and get a drink, and the lad had been
directed not to disturb the house by
their admittance. The horses were sta-
bled and a good supper provided, of
which Mr. Emery partook, with Turk,
who with true canine sagacity, fully
shared his master's responsibility. The
meal over, the landlord lighted his
guest up-stairs. ' 'There are three oth-
er gentlemen in the chamber, but you
will find an empty bed," he said, as he
opened the door. True ; there was an
"empt}- bed," but the occupants of the
two others had stripped it of every arti-

cle of covering excepting the sheets.
Making virtue of necessity, Mr. Emery
quietly slipped in alongside of the soli-
tary sleeper in the second couch. It
was scarcely dawn when his light slum-
ber was broken by the rising of the oc-
cupants of the first bed. After they
had gone down Mr. Emery rose and
dressed without disturbing his bedfel-
low. As preparations for breakfast
were in progress, he sat down by the
bar room fire to wait for a cup of coffee.
As he did so, one of his room mates said
to the other, "That fellow up-stairs has
been to Portmouth and got a custom-
house commission." Mr. Emery could
not repress a start ; there he had been
snoozing beside an officer of the cus-
toms, having taken his bed by storm.
After a moment's consideration he con-
cluded it best to order his horses and
drive a few miles before breakfasting.
Just as the wagon was brought to the
door, the government appointee came
below. Eyeing the team with a scrutin-
izing air, he bade Mr. Emery "(lood
morning." adding "Fine horses, sir;
a handsome dog. From the eastward,
I presume ?"

The captain at the ' 'Wharves" had
given Mr. Emery several bunches of
choice cigars. Handing his interrogator
an Havana, Mr. Emen r took the reins.
The custom house officer politely thank-
ing him, inquired, "if he had cigars to
sell?" "Oh! no; only a few for his
own use, and to present to a friend,"
Mr. Emery returned, giving him a half-
dozen, Bowing his thanks, the officer
asked, ' 'Where that liquor was going?"
expressing a doubt of the reliability of
the cask. Mr. Emery was on the box,
and away ; too hurried to answer these
pertinent queries. Nothing noteworthy
occurred until he reached Hampton,

280

REMENTSCEXCES

when the weight of the linen was so
great the transom bolt broke just in
front of the tavern. Mr. Emery went
clown between the wheels, but received
no serious injury. The whole village
rushed to his assistance, and' a black-
smith soon repaired damages. Mr.
Emery was a personal acquaintance to
every one of his assistants, but he could
not repress a slight trepidation during
his detention ; this was increased b}'
the good-natured hostler's appearance
with hammer and wedge, to drive the
hoops of the cask, fearing it might leak.

'We won't lose any of the good
stuff, Major." he said, as he mounted
into the wagon. ''Darn the old thing !"
he continued, "'it's a trump, anyhow.
If ever I see sich a ricketty thing hold
out like that ! Wiry, thunder and tow !
it's calked here with oakum ! Firea-
tion ! wiry don't it weep out? Well, I
must say it beats the Dutch !"

The bolt was in its place. Mr. Em-
en' gladly drove forward and reached
home without any farther adventure.
The following day the linen was taken
from the cask, packed in boxes and car-
ried into town.

That winter, Mr. Enoch Gerrish of
Boscawen. came with a large pung load-
ed with calicoes and cotton shawls,
which he had smuggled out of Canada.
The shawls were quite pretty, having
white or buff centres and high- colored
borders : they sold for four dollars
apiece. I took calico for a dress and
a shawl ; two other shawls were sold
in the house ; the remainder of the j
goods were sh'ly conveyed in the even-
ing to the store of Miss Dolly Games.
This new stock brought a rush of cus-
tom to that spinster's establishment,
which at that time was in the Dr. Cof-
fin house on High street. Shawls were i

in great demand. The previous autumn
many ladies had knit or net them from
woollen yarn of their own spinning and
coloring. My husband's grandmother.
Ruth Little, net several, and his cousin,
Sally Little, knit one on large wooden
needles for me, which 1 had colored at
Pearson's Fulling Mill. This shawl
was very pretty, and most comfortable,
being both soft and warm.

Wood was so scarce and high, peat
came into general use. Mr. Emery
owned a peat meadow, and we burned
peat mixed with wood in all the fire-
places, but the bar room was heated
entirely from peat. Mr. Emery con-
trived for it a grate, which rested upon
large iron fire-dogs. The room was
low but verj T large, and this peat when
in full glow, radiated so much heat that
a seat was comfortable at the farthest
corner from the fire in the coldest
weather.

With the sleighing came country
teams, loaded with butter, cheese, poul-
try etc. Sometimes the house was
crowded. Many of our Boscawen
friends were accompanied by the ladies
of the family ; these were my private
guests, with whom I went shopping and
visiting. I lived in such a whirl, self
was unheeded. We were doing well,
making money ; eveiything was bright
and lively ; only now and then I real-
ized how fatigued I daily became. One
cold night a large party drove to the
door ; Mr. Emery was absent ; I told
Guy to have a good fire in the bar room.
The lad threw on a bushel or so of
peat : this had only commenced smok-
ing when the men entered. "What in
the world is this ? what has the Major
here?" exclaimed one. poking the turf
with his whip stock. Well, I guess
we shall get warm round this pile of

OF A ISTOlSTAGElsrAKrAN'.

281

dirt !" said a second indignantly. "Con-
found the stuff! this don't look like
David," complained a third. The sum-
mons to supper was given ; by the time
it was over the peat was thoroughly
aglow. Ranging their chairs in a cir-
cle about the fire, the party made them-
selves comfortable with their tobacco
pipes. It was not long before one
chair was moved back, then another,
still a third and fourth, when a general
eulogium was pronounced upon the
"Major's durned stuff."

Mr. Emery kept a quiet, orderly
house ; a ban had been placed upon po-
litical discussion, parties were at such
variance, so much animosity was often
expressed that this was the only safe
course ; but upon this evening, having
the room to themselves, the gentlemen
commenced the all-absorbing* topic.
They were pretty equally divided in
sentiment, and being friends and neigh-
bors, for a time the discussion was car-
ried on pleasantly, in temperate terms ;
but the peat fire, temper, etc., bid fair
to bring on a tempest. My parlor
opened into the bar room ; I had been
a listener to the whole conversation,
and was just debating the propriety of
going to the disputants, when Mr.
James Corser of Boscawen, who had
been reclining on the bunk which Guy
occupied nights, slyly lifted the whip,
and applying the handle to his lips, sent
forth an exact representation of a bugle
blast. "The company sprang to their
feet as one man ; a general laugh en-
sued, politics were forgotten, while Cor-
ser entertained them with a unique mim-
icry of various musical instruments, and
other drolleries, which in these days
would have given him a fortune as a
public exhibitor. Our peat fire greatly
surprised and pleased a young Irish

peddler, who had brought a piece of his
native bog in his pocket all the way
from the old country, to show as a cu-
riosity, and to look at when homesick,
never dreaming that there were peat
bogs in America.

CHAPTER LIV.

Mr. Carey had been hired for a year ;
when this had expired he went in to
business for himself and moved on to the
Boston turnpike. Mr. Charles Ban-
croft took his place, and a second wag-
on was put into the business which was
driven by Mr. John Pillion. Phineas
Whittier from Boscawen and Richard
Garland from Gilmanton were the farm
hands.

Everything went on as usual through
the summer. Little did we foresee the
trouble in store. On the 25th of Au-
gust both Mr. Emer}' and Mr. Bancroft
were taken ill of fever. Mr. Bancroft
went to his home in Amesbury, where
after lingering eight weeks he died.
Mr. Emery had a slow, intermittent
fever, which ran forty days ; he was
very sick ; two attacks of pleurisy for
a time gave small hopes of his recov-
eiy, but after the fever turned he began
to slowly rally, and though confined to
the house through the winter, in the
spring, though feeble, he again resumed
business. During this long illness hosts
of friends rallied to our assistance ; I
have ever cherished deep feelings of
gratitude for the affection and sympathy
then shown.

Mr. Whittier attended Mr. Bancroft's
funeral, at which he took a cold,
which brought on a severe typhoid fe-
36

282

ver. Meantime the house was over-
flowing with company ; my brother
James had come to take charge, but I
was often compelled to settle accounts
and attend to other business. I had
plenty of good help, and Mrs. Whittier
came to her son, still, for months I was
not free from anxiety respecting the in-
valids, neither eating nor sleeping with
any regularity. "As th\* day is, so
shall thy strength be." Owing to a
kind Providence, I was sustained
through all these arduous duties.

In 1812 Dr. Dean Robinson became
a resident of the lower parish in Xew-
bur}'. In a short time he acquired
great popularity and an extensive prac-
tice, not only in Xewbuiy and Xew-
bmrport, but in the adjacent towns.
Handsome, possessing a winning ad-
dress, everywhere his reception was
most cordial ; -no physician ever com-
manded more universal love and re-
spect. Previous to his coming to Xew-
buryport he had married the widow
Farnham, of Andover. Dr. Poorehad
become aged and very deaf, all com-
munication with him being held by the
aid of an ear trumpet ; but still he con-
tinued his daily rounds, the saddle-bags
strapped to the saddle, plodding along
on his staid old horse, the companion
of years.

One afternoon the eccentric old gen-
tleman rode up to Dr. Robinson's door
and beckoned to Mrs. Robinson to come
out. The lad}- answered the summons,
when stooping down and peering into
her face, her visitor exclaimed, "They
tell me your husband is so much hand-
somer and younger that he will get all
my practice ; but you tell him that if he
does I can beat him in one thing, I've
the handsomest wife" Having deliv-
ered this pronunciamento with his usu-

al nasal accent, in a tone of unquestion-
able positiveness, the Doctor jerked up
his reins and rode abruptly away, leav-
ing the astonished Mrs. Robinson stand-
ing by the roadside in a state of bewil-
dered amazement, from which it took
some moments to recover. With a
hearty laugh the lady returned to the
house, and her graphic description and
apt mimicry of the scene became a
source of great merriment to her hus-
band and friends.

Dr. Robinson had been chosen sur-
geon to the regiment ; in this way Mr.
Emery had made his acquaintance.
Though Dr. Xoyes and Dr. Vergenies
were called, he was the attending pby-
sician through the illness of both Mr.
Emery and Mr. Whittier. His solici-
tude and care were unwearied : to my
husband and myself he grew dear as a
brother ; a friendship was formed which
never varied in the future, but contin-
ued to the end of the Doctor's long and
useful life.

In September the news of Peny's
victory on Lake Champlain brought
great rejoicing. Guns were fired, bells
rung, crackers snapped, horns sounded,
every demonstration of joy that noise
could express was made. Mr. Emery
was scarcely convalescent, and the din
proved too much for his weak nerves.

After worship had been discontinued
at Queen Ann's Chapel, the building
fell into decay ; the bell hung in the
belfry for ten years, when one* stormy
night the steeple blew over and the bell
was thrown into the road. Mr. David
Whitmore wheeled it into his barn,
where it remained for some time. At
Mr. AVhitmore's request the bell was
removed to the residence of Mr. Josiah
Little, till the building of the school-
house on High street, when it was hung

OF A

283

in the belfry, where it was used to sum-
mon the scholars to school, and on Sun-
days the congregation to meeting, as
the tower of the meetinghouse had nev-
er been furnished with a bell. The
boys, with their usual delight, in noise,
kept this bell in such a constant jingle
through the day that at length I was
obliged to have the clangor stopped.

In October, Mr. Solomon Babb took
the place of Mr. Whittier. Mr. l>abh
came into the family at a time of pecu-
liar trial, but he was found equal to
ever}' emergency, and for thirteen
years he continued our factotum, both
out of doors and within.

In December Daniel Thurston Col-
man, the oldest son of Uncle William
Colman, of Byfield, supplied the place
of the deceased Mr. Bancroft. Mr.'
Colman continued in the butchering
business for many years, until failing
health compelled him to yield his place
to his son/ He has recently deceased,
having for some time been the only sur-
viving member of those then attending
the market, and for many subsequent
years.

In March, a recruiting band being in
town drumming up recruits for the reg-
ular army. Guy Carlton Mackie, follow-
ing his native-born instincts, ran away
from school, and without giving us the
least warning, enlisted and marched
away without one word of farewell.
We were heartily sorrr for the lad, but
as he was off before we learned that he
had left school, nothing could be done,
and Mr. James Carey's younger brother
David supplied his place, and took the
new suit of clothes Guy left, they prov-
ing a perfect fit. Several years after
Guy ran in to see us a moment, being
on his way with a detachment of sol-
diers from one of the eastern to a

southern port, and that is the last we
ever heard of him, though an interest
was always cherished in his future ca-
reer.

In the summer of 1814 the news of
Napoleon's abdication brought a second
gala to the town. The success of the
allies was celebrated by a displa)' of
flags upon the shipping, the ringing of
all the bells, excepting that of the Sec-
ond Presbyterian meeting-house Rev.
Mr. Giles, and the firing of a grand
royal French salute of twenty-one guns,
and at sunset a New England salute of
five guns. In the evening the town
hall, observatory, and other public
buildings were brilliantly illuminated,
and transparencies with appropriate
mottoes were exhibited. Parson Giles
was too consistent in his political opin-
ions to permit his bell to add its tones
to this jubilee. This course was sup-
ported by the Democratic citizens, and
there were members in the Federalist
ranks who disapproved of the mani-
festations, especially the New England
salute of five guns.

The week after my marriage, the
three-story house nearly opposite the
Pillsbury place, was raised by Mr.
Humphrey Webster, who then resided
in a similar house which he had built
on Tyng street. The hard times pre-
venting the completion of this building,
it stood for some time unfinished.

In April, 1813, on the night before
Fast, Miss Margaret Lakeman was
married to Mr. Joseph Magowen, at
the residence of Col. Colman. My hus-
band and I attended the wedding ; it
was between ten and eleven when we
returned. Nothing unusual was then
seen or heard. About midnight I was
awakened by the dogs ; Turk and anoth-
er large dog at the barn were barking

284

REMINISCENCES

furiously, and a small dog that shared
Guy's bunk added his voice to the con-
cert. Rising, I opened the door into
the bar room, inquiring, "What is the
matter?" Guy, in a sleepy tone re-
plied, ''that he had looked out, but saw
nothing." I returned to bed ; the dogs
became quiet, and I heard no more un-
til morning, when Bets Downing' s out-
cry roused the whole family. Burglars
had removed the putty from a pane of
glass, passed in a hand and taken out
the nail which fastened the window,
thus obtaining entrance into the kitchen
next the shed. Having made a good
meal of hashed meat and bread, they
took a large silver spoon, a couple of
overcoats, two or three pairs of boots,
some stockings and underclothing, Bet-
sy's reticule, containing her needle-
book, thimble and scissors, a Bible and
a History of Joseph. The barking of
the dogs evidently hastened their de-
parture, as two or three pieces of nan-
keen and some other articles that had
been taken from the drawer of a desk
in the room were left scattered over the
floor. A large wagon loaded with choc-
olate stood by the barn, but the dogs
proved an effectual guard, not a cake
being taken.

From our house the thieves proceed-
ed to that of Mr. Russel, where the}"
stripped a lar'ge clothes-horse of the
week's ironing. Mr. Russel, a carriage
builder, had a large famil}'. small chil-
dren, and apprentices. Most of the
lads were minus clean clothes for Fast ;
even tho infant's clothing was all taken.

Robber}- was not common in those
da}'S, and this caused a great stir.
Notwithstanding a general search, no
trace of the miscreants was found, with
the exception of Guy's boots, which
were nearly worthless, and the leaf from

the Bible upon which was written Da-
vid Emery ; these were picked up in a
thicket by the roadside a short distance
beyond the Essex Merrimac bridge.
As two men had been seen prowling
around the unfinished house, the neigh-
borhood became alarmed, and Mr. Em-
ery advanced Mr. AVebster five hundred
dollars for its completion, taking a
mortgage on the property. The house
was soon finished and rented to Mr.
Aaron Stevens.

At the commencement of the city of
Lowell Mr. Webster was amongst the
first mechanics to go thither. The first
money there earned paid that mortgage.
No stage had then been put on the
road, and Mr. Webster walked the
whole distance from Lowell to bring
the money.

The spring of 1813 George Peabody
came to say farewell, having concluded
to join his uncle at the South. This
was the first step in the ascent to his
future prominence and wealth. One
person's misadventure sometimes makes
another's fortune. Had it not been for

; the great fire, and Gen. Peabody's re-
moval to the District of Columbia,
though doubtless George would have

! become wealthy and powerful, it is not
probable he would have occupied the
place he subsequently filled. After a
business connection with his uncle of
about two years, young Peabody en-
tered the wholesale drapery business
with Mr. Elisha Riggs. In 1815 the
house was transferred from George-
town to Baltimore, and in 1822 branch
houses were established in New York
and Philadelphia. In 1830 Mr. Elisha
Riggs having retired, Mr. Samuel
Riggs entered the firm, which under the
.style of Peabody, Riggs & Co., became
one of the leading houses of the coun-

OF A

285

try. After several trips to Europe, in
1837 Mr. Peabody took up his resi-
dence in London, and commenced bis
successful career as banker and broker.

Monday, the 13th of February, 1815,
news arrived that a treaty of peace had
been made at Ghent. It was good
sleighing. Col. Colman and my hus-
band started that morning for Bosca-
wen. Glancing from the window I es-
pied Edmund Baker, a lad formerly
employed at Gen. Peabody's, running a
horse up the street. As he neared the
house he sprang up in the stirrups, and
swinging his hat above his head, vocif-
erously shouted, "peace, peace." Dash-
ing to the door, he screeched "Where's
the Major? Peace, peace." Throwing
up his hat and catching it, he began to
hurrah, again calling loudly for the
Major. I had scarcely made the excit-
ed lad comprehend that the Major was
away, before I espied Zachariah David-
son coming in a sleigh ; his horse was
at the top of its speed, and he was
shrieking "peace, peace," at the top of
his voice. Drawing up before the door,
he too commenced shouting for the
Major.

Having ascertained that the good
news was really true, and informed
Mr. Davidson of the Major's absence,
"Zach" drove on to spread the glad tid-
ings, and Edmund returned to town,
"awfully sorry that he could not have
told the Major first."

In a few moments others arrived ;
the house became thronged, and the
whole populace went half crazy with
delight. Tuesday evening Col. Column
and my husband arrived. Having
learned the welcome news in Concord,
the}' at once retraced the road home.

Belleville was counted Democratic
or Republican, as the party was then

termed Belleville port had been es-
pecially noted for Jacobinism. Belle-
ville decided to celebrate the ratifica-
tion of peace, which was done by the
President on the seventeenth. The
next Monday afternoon an address was
delivered in Belleville meeting-house
by young John Merrill, son of Mr. Or-
lando Merrill. The house was crowd-
ed. John Merrill was then engaged to
his future wife, a daughter of Mr. Rob-
ert Dodge. The Dodge family occu-
pied a pew next to ours, and when the
young man entered, habited in Parson
Miltimore's black silk surplice, which
had been loaned for the occasion, a
gown being at that time a fashionable
garb for a public speaker, and with
grave decorun* accompanied the digni-
fied clergyman up the aisle and pulpit
stairs, the three Dodge girls were con-
vulsed with laughter ; their sly glances
to me so excited my risibles, that I had
much ado to recover equanimity, and I
could see that Miss Elizabeth was ex-
cessively nervous through the exercises.
There was a pra^ver by Parson Milti-
more, an appropriate ode was sung,
then the young orator rose to perform
his task. I could but sympathize with
the Dodge family in their anxiety for
his success, but the young man acquit-
ted himself admirably. His oration
won great applause, and from that
epoch the gentleman took his place
amongst our most gifted and prominent
citizens.

In the evening there was a grand il-
lumination throughout the parish. The
old Pillsbury house was as brilliant as
tallow candles could render it, and the
ancient mansion looked prettily pictu-
resque with its lights twinkling in its
and many various sized and shaped
casements.

286

REMIXISCEXCES

CHAPTER LV.

Soon after the declaration of peace
we had the pleasure of a visit from
cousin Sophronia Peabody ; she came I
and returned with Capt. Dole in the
"Citizen." Miss Peabody had borne
the transplanting to Southern soil most
kindly ; she had secured many warm
friends in the District and Man-land.
She had much to tell of a life of which
we knew little, and scenes and events
which have becqme historical. Her
ideas had changed and expanded, and
her natural elegance of manner was ren-
dered still more conspicuous by a dash
of Southern polish. We laughed heart-
ily over an account of the first party
she attended in Washington. Full of
the New England Federalist notions,
she promptly refused to dance with a
most unexceptionable partner, simply
because he was a most prominent Re-
publican, being obliged in consequence
to pla}- wallflower through the evening.
Some compensation was given by a
presentation to Madame Patterson Bon-
aparte.

At the time of this lady's marriage
General and Mrs. Peabody were on the
road to Philadelphia, and the General
had the honor during a shower to es-
cort the bride a short distance under
his umbrella. His praise of her beauty
and elegance had rendered the lady an
object of especial interest to us, and
Miss Peabody greatly enjoyed sitting
beside her for a half hour, while she
carried on a lively conversation in
French with the Spanish minister.

Though receiving every kindness that
could be rendered to strangers in a
strange land, slight things often showed
even then the latent fire which in after
years was destined to break forth in de-

vouring flames the cavalier disdain
for the less refined but equally proud
puritan. Edward, Gen. Peabody's
third son, a bright lad of seven sum-
mers, having unintentionally given of-
fence to one of his schoolmates, that
young urchin persisted in following
him round, shouting "Yankee tank,
Yankee tank !" Edward bore this until
he considered forbearance no longer a
virtue, when he gave the young South-
ron such a thrashing that his puritan
descent was ever afterward fully re-
spected.

The negroes were a constant source
of novelty and amusement. My cousin
related many tales of their faithfulness,
and many funny anecdotes evincing the
peculiarities of the race. An extreme-
ly tidy, economical New England wom-
an, my aunt was somewhat horrified at
the general thriftlessness of both whites
and blacks, while she astonished the
neighborhood by her activity and ener-
gy. Having employed a negre-s to
scour the white, hard-finished wall of
the parlor, she greatly excited that in-
dividual's ire by compelling her to clean
the wall to the ceiling overhead, instead
of stopping half way as intended. The
woman in her wrath declared that
"anybody might see Missus Peabod}'
was nuffing but a Yankum woman; a
Southern lady would never have known
whether the plaster was cleaned or not."

During the war, Mrs. Madison found
it as difficult to procure articles of lux-
ury us those of less exalted station.
Being in a dilemma respecting curtains
for the "Blue room" at the White
House, she rode over to Georgetown to
inspect Gen. Peabody's stock. He had*
a piece of blue silk damask, but it was
only half the requisite quantity. What
could be done ? An idea suggested it-

OF A

287

self to the General. The furnishing of
the best parlor and chamber of his
State street house had been purchased
in Italy by Capt. Caleb Lufkin, it hav-
ing been ordered by a nobleman of that
country for his palace, but for some
cause was never used, but sold. The
upholstery and curtains were of a thick,
heavy, watered silk, with broad satin
stripes, and of a most beautiful tint of
yellow. Part of the curtains were then
not in use, as in that warm climate
white muslin was preferable. These
curtains were brought for Mrs. Madi-
son's inspection ; she was delighted,
and took Gen. Peabody in her carriage
to Washington, to assist in planning
the drapery. It was found that in size
the golden curtains fitted the windows
admirably, and mixed with the blue,
they gave the room a charming effect.
Thus the Newburyport hanging re-
ceived the distinction of gracing the
Presidential mansion. The silk woven
for a European aristocrat, thus decorat-
ed the residence of the Democratic
ch'ief magistrate of these free and inde-
pendent United States.

Miss Peabody's description of the
burning of the Capitol was exceedingly-
interesting. The approach of the Brit-
ish had been anxiously watched by the
people of the District, but not a doubt
of the supremac}* of the American arms
was entertained, until the morning of
the twenty-third of August. Early on
that day a rumor arose that the United
States troops had been defeated at Blu-
densburg. This report was soon con-
firmed by the appearance of the re-
treating militia. Squad after squad of
^soldiers passed in rapid flight during
the morning. The panic became gen-
eral ; most of the citizens packed their
valuables and started for the country.

Washington became nearly depopulat-
ed ; everything in the form of an ani-
mal or vehicle being pressed into ser-
vice. Through the day this miscella-
neous and incongruous procession had
passed Gen. Peabody's residence ; it
was nearly four o'clock in the after-
noon ; the stream of passers had great-
ly diminished when the cry arose, "The
President ! the President !" and a coach
dashed past, on the back seat of which
sat Mr. Madison. The weather was
excessively hot and the President had
taken off his hat ; there was no mis-
take, he was recognized at a glance.

Could this be possible ! The family
gazed in speechless amazement ; then
the brave, noble- spirited John burst
forth in a torrent of indignation. "Catch
-Yankees to have allowed the President
to run in this fashion ! they would have
died first, ever}' mother's son of them,
if they were all Federalists." Gen.
Peabod-y shared his son's excitement.
His military ardor was completely
roused. "Never was a building better
located for defence than the Capitol, if
the soldiers, instead of running away,
had spent the day in intrenching, some-
thing might have been done." The
General paced around with the impa-
tience of a caged lion. He was urged
to remove his family to the plantation
of a friend a few miles back , but riding
was painful to Adeline's lame hip, and
the others preferred to remain and
abide events. Towards night it was
reported that the iron works, where
cannon and ammunition had been cast,
were on fire ; but this was a false ru-
mor. The British troops without any
halt pressed forward directly into Wash-
ington ; about eight in the evening the
advanced guard entered the city, and
in about an hour the kindling fires

288

KEMIXISCEXCES

showed that the work of destruction had
commenced. It was a still, sultry,
moonlight night ; not a breath swayed
the flames which rose up ; straight,
mighty pillars of fire, forming a unique
and magnificent spectacle. Gradually
they widened and brightened, till the
Capitol, the buildings of the several de-
partments, and the bridge over the Po-
tomac, were wrapt in one sheet of fire.
From the portico of their house the
Peabody family watched the panorama,
this disgraceful vandalism, with feelinge
that can better be imagined than ds-
scribed. At a late hour the two 3'ounger
boys, Joseph and Edward, were fairly
driven to bed ; at breakfast they were
not to be found. Much startled, the
family were about to institute a search,
when in marched the two }*oung heroes,
clad in their last winter's scarlet suits,
which -they had donned for the occasion,
thinking that these clothes would "pass
muster" amongst the British, their
hands and pockets full of half-burnt
charts, rulers, paper, knives etc., that
they had picked up amongst the ruins.
With a grand air they reported the no-
tice they had received. One officer had
patted Edward's curl}- head, and in-
quired "if he would not like to be a sol-
dier ?" To which the pert youth re-
plied, "that he intended to be one,
when he would whip the British sotind-
ly for thus dastardly burning our Capi-
tol." This speech was received with
roars of laughter ; and one officer in a
splendid uniform, said, "he would give
a round sum to own that Yankee boy,
that he was made of the light stuff."

Fears were entertained of marauders ;
but none of the soldiers crossed into
Georgetown. During the afternoon an
accident spread great dismay through
the army. A quantity of powder had

been hidden in a dry well, which was
covered with plank. A party were
lounging over the platform smoking,
when a spark fell through a crevice and
a terrible explosion followed. Some of
the group were killed and others wound-
ed. This accidental occurrence was re-
garded as a Yankee trick, and it spread
both consternation and horror through
the British ranks. The Yankees were
full of tricks. Who knew but that the
whole area was undermined ! Terror
multiplied terror, till a panic took pos-
session of the troops and they scarcely
dared to move ; every order was per-
formed with fear and caution. In the
evening this terror was heightened by a
most terrific thunder storm ; the oldest
inhabitant could not recall its equal.
Glare succeeded glare a perfect sheet
of lightning, while the thunder roared,
rattled, crashed and pealed ; rain min-
gled with hail poured down like a sec-
ond flood, and the wind blew a perfect
tornado. The negroes declared "the
Lor Gor Ormity was taking up our side
for sure." Perhaps the British enter-
tained the same opinion. The fleet
was driven from their moorings in the
river and dashed against each other,
experiencing considerable damage ;
tents were overturned, horses broke
loose, altogether it was a fearful night.
The morning showed the^eneim' in full
retreat. Before sunset the rear guard
had marched forth, and in a few hours
the last straggler had disappeared.

CHAPTER LVI.

The 9th of September, 1815, my first
child was born, a girl, who lived but
twenty -four hours. I remained feeble

OF A NONAGENARIAN.

289

for a long time, and it was difficult to
say "Thy will be done." Parson Milti-
more proved a precious friend at this
season, and Dr. Parish often called with
words of comfort and cheer.

When Mr. Emery hired the Pillsbury
farm, Daniel Colman came to Newbury-
port to take the situation he relinquished
in the business with Col. Jeremiah Col-
man. That gentleman had recently
purchased a residence in Newbury, on
the Boston turnpike, whither he had re-
moved. The last of October Mr. Dan-
iel Colman was married to Miss Nancy
Pike, the second daughter of Mr. Hen-
ry Pike, of Ring's Island. The young
couple commenced housekeeping in half
of Col. Jeremiah Colman's house, and
there the wedding took place, a very
pleasant family gathering. Dr. Parish
performed the ceremony. The good
Doctor often boasted of having married
the three brothers' to three of the hand-
somest and best women to be found.
A large L was soon added to the house,
giving accommodation to the two fami-
lies ; but for some months the two sis-
ters-in-law shared the kitchen, one hav-
ing a fire in one corner of the capacious
fireplace and the other in the opposite",
the brick oven Toeing used alternately.
Mrs. Jeremiah Colman was fond of ad-
verting to this period, always ending
her recital with "and we never had one
word of difference."

The next year, 1816, was memorable
as "the cold summer." The 1st of
June Mr. Daniel Colman and wife, and
Mr. Emery and myself, started on a
journey to Boscawen. We set out early
Monday morning, a raw, pitiless da}',
and this weather continued through the
trip. *We wore winter clothing, and
fires were as acceptable as in January.
Thursday was election day. We went

into Concord in the morning to be pres-
ent at the inauguration of the Govern-
or. As it seemed fitting to dress for
the august occasion, Mrs. Colman
donned a blue crape, and one of those
smuggled shawls that I have previously
described. I w*ore a black crape, and
a black, worsted summer shawl. Mr.
Co